My Mother's Daughter
by Chicleeblair
Summary: When Meredith found out she was pregnant she moved to Boston in the hopes of being a better mother than her mother was. Now her daughter starts to understand that her parents are still in love. But will they ever realize it? Post season three, MerDer
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Meredith, why are you doing this?"

Meredith Grey turned around in the rain outside of the Seattle airport to face Derek Shepard, who was had reached out and put a hand on her arm. She jerked out of his grip and stepped back, her hand tightly gripping the handle of her suitcase.

"Because I have to, Derek. I have to go. It'll be better—for all of us."

Derek gave a derisive laugh and pushed his hands into the pocket of his jacket. The rain had soaked his hair and he didn't seem to notice that it was flopping into his face. "It'll be better for our child not to have a father? I never thought you'd say that. Do you hate me that much?"

A look of shock crossed over Meredith's face. "No," she said, softly, her hand resting on her abdomen, which had expanded to hold the baby growing within it. "No. I could never hate you, Derek. But we've tried," she said, vehemently. "We've tried and it hasn't worked out."

"We can try again! For the baby!"

"No!" Meredith said, vehemently. "If we try again, just for the baby, and don't work, we'll want to stay together, just for the baby. Do you really want a child to grow up with the knowledge that she's the only reason her parents live in the same house?"

There was silence for a second, and then, "She? It's a girl?" Derek said, taking a step towards Meredith, who nodded.

"Yeah. I found out last week. I figured it'd be harder if I told you…. Look, I'm not going to keep you out of her life. I could never do that. But she doesn't deserve parents who are unhappy."

"How do you know that we would be unhappy?" Derek demanded, pleadingly. "We can be happy."

Meredith took a breath, and then looked up at Derek. He could see that her eyes were full of tears. He could not tell if they had fallen or not, because of the rain that dripped off her bangs and down her face. "Happy endings don't happen. Remember? You can't just be our knight in shining whatever, just for the baby. It'd all come crashing down around us again, and I couldn't do that to her."

"You don't know that would happen!" Derek said, in exasperation.

"But it could, and I'm not willing to risk that. Derek, I- I'm sorry. I wish—but you can't change the past."

"No," Derek agreed. He stepped forward again. "You'll—" he swallowed, cleared his throat. "You'll miss your plane." He looked away, so that he wouldn't see that there were tears in his eyes too. A car went by them, splashing Derek's legs with water.

"Yeah," Meredith said, nodding.

Derek stepped back, and Meredith slowly turned to the doors of the airport.

"Meredith!" he called, a note of desperation in his voice.

"What?" Meredith said, turning back just a little bit.

"I love you. Still," he called, his voice cracking on the last word.

Meredith didn't say anything, just went into the airport, and checked her baggage. When her seat was called she filed onto the plan like all of the other passengers, and slid uncomfortably into her window seat. She turned her face to the small window and rested her cheek against it. Quietly, so that no one else heard, she said, "I love you too." The tears that had been held in her eyes began to fall, but her sobs were so silent that the man sitting next to her, reading a novel, did not notice that the otherwise tiny pregnant woman next to him cried steadily for the entire flight.

A/N I lied when I said no long fics this summer. This one won't be as long as some, but I'm excited about it :D


	2. Just The Two of Us

Chapter One

"I really wish that I could say it's good to be home," my mother said with a sigh as she dropped the handle of her suitcase and fell back onto her bed.

"Yeah," I agreed, tossing my backpack onto her floor and flopping on the bed as well, so that our heads just barely touched at a ninety-degree angle.

"Does it make me a horrible person that I'm slightly wishing that New York would have an epidemic of brain tumors, just so we'd have an excuse to go back there?" Mom asked with a sigh.

"I don't know. You said that it was just a slight wish, right? You're not, like, making plans to inject cancer cells into the heads of every New Yorker you meet?"

"Hmm…" Mom said, pretending to think about it. "Nope. Can't say that that's part of my master plan. Although, I may just be too lazy to do it, and that's the only reason it didn't occur to me."

"Whatever the reason, so long as you're not actually contemplating acting on this 'tumor epidemic' thing, I think you're safe from being smited."

"Is smited a word? I think the past participle of 'to smite' is 'smote'."

"Take it up with my English teacher," I replied, smirking.

"I'll be sure to mention it, the next time I talk to myself," Mom said, with a laugh.

Mom was my English teacher, my Math teacher and my Everything Else teacher. She'd home-schooled me for as long as I can remember, though she insists that I did go to daycare between the ages of two and four. I'm not sure I'd believe her if there weren't pictures. Occasionally when I was little and she couldn't bribe a scrub nurse to watch after me she'd hire a babysitter, but by the time I was seven I knew my way around a hospital well enough to be left in a on-call room for long enough for Mom to check in on me at intervals, and to order interns to do it at any other time.

We're nomads, Mom and I. Well, not really. Technically Mom's a neurosurgeon at Boston General, the same place where my grandmother was a general surgeon. We call Boston home-base, but we've traveled all over. Mom's famous for doing operations on people who most would consider inoperable, and not making them come to her. More importantly, she's usually successful. We've traveled all over the place on her consultations.

"So, what do you want for dinner?" Mom asked, pushing herself up on one elbow and looking down into my face.

"Chinese," I said, fighting to keep myself from laughing at the look at disgust that crossed over her face. I usually only suggest Chinese when Mom's really tired or at a time when she seems particularly adoring of me and will probably give in. This time, though, I just wanted to see her make that face. "I'm kidding. I ordered Chinese in the hotel room while you were performing that thirteen hour surgery. Let's just order pizza or something."

"You know, I really should be doing the concerned mom thing and point out that we had McDonald's for lunch and should probably eat a more-balanced diet." Mom sat up and looked over her shoulder at me.

"You should," I agreed, with a smile. "But are you going to?"

"No. No, because we all know I can't cook, and going anywhere that serves a balanced meal would mean changing clothes, which is pretty much not going to happen."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure some upstanding, fancy, serves-edible-food place would love to see two gorgeous women in tank-tops and shorts," I argued.

"Yeah. I also don't want to see the inside of a car, any car for a month," Mom countered, then got up to go for the phone.

I shook my head as I collected my backpack and lugged it the two yards across the hall to my room. That was such a lie; Mom would spend her whole life living in a car. Whenever she got an out-of-town consult, which was at least once a month, we'd usually fly up in the hospital helicopter if the surgery was urgent and then road-trip back to Boston, sometimes driving for as long as a week. We'd seen most of the country that way. Mom's superiors at General were not really fans of our habits, but they knew Mom was the best, so they never challenged her about it.

My room was pretty sparse for your average fifteen year old. Or, I guessed it was. My best friend was (is) an Australian boy, and I'd not been in that many teenaged girls' rooms. One of the difficulties of being nomadic, I suppose. Not that I didn't have friends; just that I saw them at the Y or they were involved with the hospital in some way. I didn't go to their houses that much.

Anyway, my room. There were a couple of posters on the walls of bands I liked, and some pictures scattered about, but that was it. Everything I really cared about could fit in my backpack and a suitcase. I left my bag on the floor. I rarely fully unpacked it, just pulled stuff out when I needed it and it eventually got unpacked.

I kicked my shoes off and crossed my legs, staring across the room at my closet door. I could hear Mom in the hall, on the phone with the pizza guy. Apparently she had to justify the wisdom of double anchovy and green peppers with no tomato sauce to him. There was usually a certain disbelief in the tone of an operator that made Mom feel she had to defend herself. She was very defensive about just about everything from home-schooling me to the eighties records she had in a box under her bed.

"Forty-five minutes," she called to me. "You could take that time to bring your suitcase in, throw away the trash that's piled up in the car and unpack!"

"I could," I called back in agreement, but didn't move to get off the bed.

"But you're not going to?" Mom asked, coming into my room, and sitting down on the floor against the wall.

I shook my head, wisps of my black hair falling out of my ponytail.

"Something up, pigeon?" Mom asked. The nickname made me smile, as it always did. Mainly, because Mom had started calling me that due to my babyhood habit of pooping at the worst possible moments and places, like a pigeon.

I shrugged.

"You were awfully quiet during the drive back," she pointed out. "This is the first time that we've listened to Lolita on audio that you haven't suggested that we retrace their route across the US, except without the pedophilia."

I smiled. "I still think that would be the quintessential home-schooled kid project. Reading a book and then retracing their steps. We'd start in Paris of course, just like old--."

Mom held up a hand. "Freeze, Hannah. That thing you're doing? I do it too. You're rambling to avoid the issue. It's one of those 'takes one to know one things'. So come on, tell me your problems now, so that we're not having a much-needed conversation as I scrub in like we normally do."

"Do you always have to refer to the 'Mom I got my period' 'Great, I've got a hemispherectomy in OR 2, go talk to Nurse Joy' conversation?" I asked, in exasperation.

"Not always," Mom said. "There's always the 'Mom, I kissed Alex Johnson and our braces got stuck together' incident, during which I quite nearly pushed a bullet deeper into a man's skull."

"Bullshit," I called. "You had that bullet out in ten seconds and the proceeded to call an orthodontic consult within five minutes."

"And once again you so skillfully attempt to change the subject."

I scowled, then folded my hands and rested my chin on them. "I—Have you heard from Dad lately?"

Hoping that she'd think it was a non-sequitur I looked away for a second, so that I just barely saw the small flicker of… something… that came over Mom's face. It was pain, but something more than that, and it was something I hated to bring up. Most kids whose parents or divorced, or were never married in the first place (like mine) live with an impossible dream of their parents getting back together, or so I'd read in the parenting books Mom thought she'd hidden from me. I didn't live with an impossible belief that my parents still loved each other. I knew it. Dad wasn't as obvious about it maybe, and Mom didn't try to be, but I saw it on both of their faces. They were just stubborn and would never admit it.

"You're worried because he hasn't sent you his annual 'come and stay with me this summer' letter," Mom said slowly.

I nodded, glancing over at the picture on my bedside table. It was the three of us, Mom, Dad and me. I was only four, too young to know how hard it was for Mom to be around Dad. She's smiling in the picture, but there's pain in the green eyes that mirror mine. Dad's holding me and grinning. I remembered, looking at the picture, how safe I felt there. The only problem with the picture, aside from the pain in Mom's eyes, was the person who took it. Dad's girlfriend, Kathleen.

"Are you considering going this year?"

I shook my head. Every year, Dad offered to let me stay with him and Kathleen for three months. It's in the custody agreement, but Dad's never forced me to go. I refuse, and Mom and I go to Seattle for a week, and I spend time with him then, as well as at Christmas.

It wasn't that I don't like spending time with him; it was that I don't like leaving Mom without me. We're a pair.

"No, I never go…. But it's weird, that he hasn't asked yet."

"It's only the beginning of April, and from what I've heard he's been busy."

"Yeah, you're right. You know… last year…. Last year he wanted me to finish off high school with him, so that I could go to, you know, brick-and-mortar school."

I couldn't look at Mom as I said this. I knew the shock that would be on her face, knew that she would quickly collect herself to try and talk it out sensibly with me, but that I would be hurting her. I hated hurting Mom. It was too obvious that she had been hurt before. I didn't want to add to that.

"Is that what you want, Hannah?" she asked, quietly.

I shrugged. "Dunno. I like our life, don't get me wrong. I love it. I can't imagine anything else, really. It's just… it'll be weird, won't it? When I go to college and I've never been to real school."

"Sweetheart," Mom said, "If you want to go to school, we can enroll you easily and stay in one place. I'll send you off with a bagged lunch and your phone number in your pocket, Mean Girls style. I'll even allow you a few months of being a fake, preppy girl, before I knock some sense into you."

'No thanks," I said, laughing. I slid off my bed and scooted over to rest my head on Mom's knees. "I don't really think I'm cut out for school that doesn't involved camping out and doing my work in any hotel room or hospital conference room that I can. It was just… something I was thinking about."

"Okay," Mom said, kissing the top of my head. "Thinking is allowed. Encouraged, even."

"Good to know."

"And… you know, any time you want to hop on a plane and visit your dad, you can."

"And leave you to fend for yourself? Cristina would kill me."

"I'm pretty sure the only thing that would make Cristina kill you would be if you called her Aunt Cristina again."

"I was two!" I protested, lifting my head up. "But, yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am, I'm the mom." Mom said; her face serious.

I looked at her, cocked an eyebrow, and we both burst into laughter.

"All right now, pigeon?" Mom asked, pulling herself up. "Omph, I'm too old for this."

"I'm all right."

Mom smiled, but as she turned to leave she pointed out, "You're not denying my claim to be old."

"Well, you do have a fifteen year old kid," I pointed out. "By some peoples' definitions…"

"You finish that sentence and I don't let you go on my next consult."

"You'd never leave me home alone, because of all the stuff you did as a teenager," I countered, with a smirk.

"How did I raise such a smartass child?" Mom asked the ceiling.

"It's one of those 'takes one to know one' things," I replied.

Mom's eyebrows raised; and I was slightly afraid for a second that I had taken it too far, but before I could apologize, Mom started to cough, hard. She had to support herself against the doorjamb until the coughing fit subsided.

"You okay?" I asked, mostly hoping that she'd forget about my mouthing-off.

"Yeah," Mom said, hoarsely.

She looked pale, and I was going to pursue the matter, but the doorbell rang and Mom grinned.

"Pizza!" she exclaimed and, as we always did, we both ran for the front door, trying to beat each other, our whoops and crashing into furniture (neither off us are too coordinated) always freaking out the pizza guy.

Later, I would wish that I hadn't forgotten about that cough.

A/N Review please! I'm so excited that so many people liked this story at just the prologue!


	3. I'll Be There

Chapter Two

A week after we got back from New York I tossed my pencil down onto the conference room table in annoyance. About the last thing I wanted to be doing at that moment was Calculus. Usually, I could talk Mom out of math lessons, sometimes for weeks at a time, but she'd been in a pissy mood lately, so I didn't want to chance it.

Instead, I closed my book, tossed it into my bag and decided to wander down to the hospital cafeteria, under the pretext of looking for my mother, who I knew very well was in surgery.

I bought a cup of coffee and sat a table in the back, pulling Jane Austen's Persuasion out of my backpack. It was the book I had chosen to write a paper on for Mom, but I technically wasn't supposed to start reading until after I did my Calc work. Mom always set those guidelines, but she did not really care, as long as I got all my work done with a reasonable balance between subjects.

"Hannah, good afternoon."

I jumped, looking nervously around for Mom, but only saw Dr. Harold Gregory. He was a fellow, working directly underneath Mom, who had an obvious crush on her. It would have been better if he had been, you know, attractive, but he was rather unfortunate in that area. His quest for a date with Mom was legendary in the hospital gossip chain. I'd suggested to her once that she just tell him that she was a lesbian and had adopted me, but Mom insisted that my resemblance to her nixed that idea. Otherwise, she'd probably have done it.

I didn't dare suggest she tell him the truth; that she was still in love with my father.

"How's your mother doing? I haven't seen much of her lately." Dr. Gregory said, placing his salad down in the seat across from me and sitting down, in a way I'm sure he thought was casual.

"Um, I think she's okay," I said, marking my place in the book with a scowl. "Why?"

"Oh no reason. So… uh…. Hannah…. Your mom…. She doesn't spend much time away from medicine does she?"

"Well… yeah. I mean, when we travel she does. Just, when we're in Boston she has to work to make up for it."

"Uh huh. Must be hard from her, with only… well, no offense, but… having just her daughter for company."

I stared at him. He'd known Mom and me for three years; was he blind? Mom was my best friend. I mean, granted, she could be annoying, but that was only when she tried to actually be what she assumed a mother should be. Other than that, she was cooler than any other mom.

"I… wouldn't say that. She doesn't like to go out much." I thought about just blurting out that Mom was still stuck on my dad, who was much more attractive than this overweight bimbo, but decided that this was probably a bad idea. I was saved from having to actually come up with a response by Mom herself.

"Hannah Marie Shepard!" she called, and I turned to see her making her way quickly towards me from across the cafeteria.

She must have lost the patient, her eyes were shooting daggers at me, and I knew that just leaving my Calculus for dead wouldn't be enough to make her quite this angry.

"Um… I need to go," I said to Dr. Gregory grabbing my bag and book and walking slowly over to Mom. "Hi, Mom," I said brightly, and then heard Gregory following me.

"Meredith, good afternoon," he said. Mom's eyes widened, losing their anger. She looked at me, and I read her mind.

"Mom, come on," I said. "I'm sorry, I'm making us late for my dentist appointment, lost track of time, bye Dr. Gregory." I took Mom's arm and we hurried off towards the elevator.

Once we got on, I leaned against the wall. "He's such a weasel."

"Yeah, but he's a good doctor," Mom said tiredly. "Care to explain why you weren't where I left you?"

"I learned to walk."

"A straight answer would be really great right now, Hannah," Mom said. She was standing in the corner of the elevator, and seemed to be leaning very heavily on both walls.

"Sorry. I got bored. Calculus sucks. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Mom snapped. "We're talking about you, remember?"

"I told you, I got bored. Do I have to do a Cristina on you and actually define the word 'fine' before I let you use it again?"

"I think I'll pass on that. I'm just tired. I'm off in half an hour; have your work done and I'll let you make dinner tonight."

"And if I don't have it done?"

Mom coughed, and then narrowed her eyes at me. "I'll cook," she said, as if it was the worst punishment in the world. I've got to admit, it makes it on my top ten list.

"Noted," I said. The elevator bell rang, and we got off. Mom went off towards the patient rooms, and I started to go back to the conference room, but turned to call after Mom.

"Huh?" Mom said, turning back to me.

"Love you."

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "I love you too, pigeon. Now go do work."

I obeyed her. I had all the math done by the times I heard Mom coming to find me. I was about to call this out, so that she wouldn't go crazy on me for having a book open in front of me, but before I could I heard her coughing again.

When the coughing stopped I turned. Mom was smiling, showing no signs of feeling badly, except that the smile wasn't quite reaching her eyes.

"Mom, come here, I need you to define this for me," I said.

She stood behind my chair and leaned over my shoulder. I turned slightly, taking her arm in one hand and pressing the back of my other against her forehead. It was definitely warm.

"You play dirty," Mom said, annoyed, as I let her go and stood up.

"Yes, and you're not fine; in fact you haven't been fine in over a week. Don't think I don't hear you coughing at night." I said. "Come on, I'll drive home." Mom rolled her eyes at me, but didn't contradict me. I noticed that she had her cardigan buttoned up, in spite of the fact that it was pleasantly warm inside, and not as cold as it usually was inside the hospital.

\We went out into the bright hallway; I put my hand in Mom's. Her hands were usually freezing, but even they were warm. It worried me more than a little; Mom was never sick.

"I'm not exactly an invalid," Mom protested, as I held out my hand for the keys when we reached the parking garage. "I can get us home."

"So can I and I need more practice hours before I turn sixteen next month anyhow."

Mom sighed and pulled the keys out of her pocket and handed them to me.

I'd driven the few miles to our apartment from the hospital loads of times before, but even so Mom usually paid just as much attention that she would if she were driving, telling me when to stop and where to turn even though I knew it full well. I complained, but usually it was reassuring.

This time though, there was about half the commentary for the first mile or so, and when I looked over at Mom when she was silent at one particularly bad intersection her eyes were closed and her head rested against the window.

"So not okay," I repeated.

"Shut up, I'm still the mother," Mom retorted, forcing her eyes open.

"Give it a rest," I advised. "Oh look, there's Warrington, can't I run him over?" I gestured towards our landlord with my chin. He was another man who Mom was constantly fending off, and he was older and uglier than Gregory the weasel.

"No illegal activities when Mommy's sick," Mom said with a small smile.

"Ha! You admitted it!" I exclaimed as I pulled into our parking space in the garage down the street from our building.

Mom rolled her eyes at me. "You're far too excited by that," she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "It's just the flu. I'm once again being reminded that I'm not immortal."

I nodded, and put my arm through Mom's, noticing that she leaned on me a little as we walked to the house. I knew to what she was referring, Alex had told me about Mom's two near brushes with death last Christmas. He was the only one who seemed to think I was old enough to know why Dad always looked nervous when I wanted to ride the ferryboats instead of going across the bridge.

"I think the flu is a slightly less harsh reminder," I pointed out, as we got to the building. "Thanks though, I'm bound to catch it and I have no worse near-death experiences to compare it to."

"To which," Mom corrected.

"Oh, because you're the good grammar queen of the world," I said, sarcastically, opening the door. "You, bed."

"We've been through this," Mom said, "I'm allowed to correct your grammar; no matter what mine's like, because I am both the mommy and the teacher."

"If you don't get in bed I'm going to go all Auntie Izzie on you and make you eat only chicken noodle soup for a week." Izzie was the only one of Mom's friends from Seattle who liked me to call them aunt or uncle, and really it suited Izzie.

"I'm going, I'm going!" Mom said. We laughed, although Mom's turned into a cough in the end. I listened to it hard that time, it sounded wet, but that's all I could discern. I wished Mom had let me spend more time eavesdropping in the ER.

I went into my room and changed into my sweats, knowing that we weren't going any where that night.

When I went to find Mom, she was lying on her still-made bed, in a Dartmouth sweat shirt and pajama pants. Her eyes were closed, so I moved in slowly, lying next to her as quietly as I could.

She opened her eyes at the very slight movement of the bed and smiled at me. "Quit your mother-henning, my little pigeon. I'm fine. There is no need for you to turn into Florence Nightengale or Clara Barton or anything."

"Well," I said, putting my head on her shoulder, "I learned from the best. I mean, you've Florence Nightengale-ed me through everything from chickenpox to strep throat."

"This is true," Mom said, with a smile as she closed her eyes again. "You'd better be lucky I was the one nursing you. Your dad's the worst mother-hen I've ever met. He was the reason they kept me in the hospital for a full week after the…er… ferryboat incident. They were ready to let me go after five days, and I wanted to get back to work, but your dad wouldn't let them. If you'd gotten chickenpox when you were with him he'd probably rush you to Peru to see specialists."

I didn't say anything at first. It was rare for Mom to mention Dad, and even rarer for her to mention a time before I was born. After a few minutes I said brightly, "Well… we were in Miami when I got chickenpox, and that's almost Cuba which is… not close to Peru at all actually."

Mom laughed. "Well, at least I've managed to teach you a little geography."

I laughed too and burrowed down against Mom. She put her arm around me, and kissed my forehead. I stretched my legs out for a second, and realized that I was getting to be nearly as tall as Mom. I knew that she wasn't very tall, but still it looked like I was taking after Dad in height. I wasn't sure how to feel about that, since everything else about me but my hair was Mom's.

I decided not to think about it until I had to, and instead curled my legs back up and kissed Mom lightly on the cheek before closing my eyes too. She still felt way too warm.

When I woke up, it had gotten dark outside. I wasn't sure what had woken me, until I realized that I wasn't lying with my head on top of my mom anymore. She was lying on her side, her back to me. I put a hand on her arm and realized with a start that she was shivering.

"Mom," I whispered into the darkness. "Mom, wake up." I darted over to her side of the bed, and put my head against her cheek. "You're burning up," I murmured.

"Mmm," Mom murmured, blearily opening her eyes. "Freezing."

"I'm going to get the thermometer. I'll be right back."

I ran into the bathroom and flipped on the switch. The light blinded me as I felt around for the thermometer and pill bottle. I squinted to make sure that I'd gotten the pill bottle and ran back to Mom. I was halfway to her room when I remembered that I had forgotten to get water. I hastily went back and ran a cup under the tap. When I got back to Mom's bedroom I knelt by her bed and my knee knocked into the bottle of Dasani that rested by her bedside table. Scowling at it I put the cup and pills on the table and turned to Mom.

"In," I said, putting the thermometer into her mouth. I sat on the end of the bed and rubbed her arms and back, like she did for me when I was sick. In a minute the electric beeping of the thermometer broke the silence. Mom pulled it out of her mouth and squinted at the back lit screen.

"One oh three," she murmured. "Could be worse." She pushed herself up and I reached over and grabbed the pill bottle. After a second of my vain attempt to get past the childproof lid Mom held her hand out for it.

"Good to know there are some things I am still needed for."

"For which," I corrected with a smile. "And besides, I thought you'd just be glad that I can't OD on anything with a child-proof cap."

"It did cross my mind," Mom said, "But then, I figured you'd come up with a much more unique way to be like any other teenager."

I tried to laugh, but I couldn't quite manage it. Mom noticed and sat up further, patting the bed next to her.

I slid back to my spot next to her on the bed, and she put her arm back around me. "No worries, okay, pigeon? I'm going to be fine, got it? And I do know what fine means, contrary to what Cristina may tell you. She's not the best with that word either, anyway."

"Got it." I said.

"Really got it?" she asked, with a smirk. "You promise? Because I'd hate to have to go over it again."

"Promise," I said.

"Okay, good. Now, I seem to remember something about it being your night to cook."

I groaned. "Don't wanna," I said with a pout.

"Well I'm most certainly not going to, I'm the patient here," Mom said.

"McDonald's?" I asked, with a smile.

"Go get it. You being old enough to walk two blocks over by yourself has had its advantages."

"Yes, six years of them." I stood up. "You better not be dead or something when I get back, understand? Because if you are, first of all, I don't have the patience to wait an entire day for you to decide to step away from the light, and B I reserve the right to take your purse and go on a shopping spree in good ol' NYC."

"Point taken," Mom said with a laugh.

I left her, nervously, and went out to go the two blocks down the street to Mickey D's and back. It was just after dusk, and I didn't worry about my safety in our neighborhood. It was why Mom paid such high rent for an apartment that we barely lived in, because she felt safe on the rare occasions that she left me in the apartment.

The consequence of our nomadic lifestyle was that I barely knew most of our neighbors, so there wasn't anyone to say hello to on the walk, even though I was aware that most people had lived there as long as we had.

I ran back to the apartment, so that our fries stayed warm, but before I could announce my arrival from the quest of the golden value meal I saw that Mom had fallen back asleep.

Rather than wake her, I placed the bags on the counter. We could always nuke them later. Then I went into the living room and took the afghan that Aunt Izzie had knit for us into the bedroom. The afghan was huge, and brightly colored. In the daylight it imitated Aunt Izzie's perkiness, but in the night it reminded me more of her caring. Mom and I both adored the afghan, even though neither of us was particularly fond of the bright pinks that it was dominated by. It was nice to have something of Mom's Seattle friends. I knew she missed them, because I missed them and I didn't know them nearly as well.

In her bedroom, I covered Mom with the afghan, and then crawled under myself, pulling it tight around the both of us. Mom didn't wake up this time, but she rolled over and put her arms around me instinctively. It took me longer to fall asleep this time, partially because Mom's coughing in her sleep made me nervous, but eventually we both slept.

A/N I'm so glad that you guys like this! Hannah's story has seriously taken over my brain.

And Brandy, I hope this is soonish enough for ya!!!!


	4. Please Tell Me What To Do

Chapter Three

The next morning I awoke to the sound of someone moving around the bedroom. I cracked my eyes open in the just-past-dawn light, and saw Mom attempting to tip-toe out of the room, her shoes in one hand.

'Freeze!" I said, in as loud of a voice as I could summon in my half-awake state.

"Damn," Mom murmured as I pushed myself up on her pillows.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Not," Mom said, resting a hand on the doorway," That I should have to defend myself to my teenage daughter, but I just got back from our two and a half week gallivant in New York that was supposed to be a one day consult. I have to go to work."

"How about not? How about you stay here, and not give your germs to your patients? Seriously, Mom, have you even taken a day off because you were sick?"

Mom bit her lip, in the way she did when she wasn't sure what to say.

"They can get along without you for a day. You can even tell the chief that I'm sick, in case you think he'll drop dead when you say you're sick."

"You remind me more and more of your Aunt Izzie every day," Mom grumbled, but she dropped her shoes and as soon as she did she fell into a cough again.

"In this case, I'll take that as a compliment," I said, not wanting to be called a mother-hen again, but still worried by the cough. "Now come on, I'll heat up the McDonald's from last night."

Mom grabbed the afghan off the bed and wrapped it around herself. She sat on the couch while I heated up the burgers and fries.

"Your dad would kill me if he knew what I was letting you eat for breakfast," Mom said, as she bit into a French fry.

"Yeah, well, there's no trout around here," I replied.

Mom laughed, and I chanced a look at her face. There was less of the emotion I usually saw there when I mentioned Dad, and I grinned.

I noticed that Mom didn't eat all of her food, but then it wasn't nearly as good when it had been reheated. After I cleaned up the bags and wrappers I perched on the arm of the couch.

"Are you up for a traditional Grey Girls' sick day? I plan on enjoying this one, since I'm not sick."

"Rub it in," Mom murmured. I took that as assent and went over to the box of DVDs, pulling out the movies we liked to mock whenever we had nothing better to do; they were either really old, really corny or Disney.

I noticed that I tended to be the one making all the comments, from my spot on the floor leaning up against the couch, but Mom laughed at my snide remarks and seemed to be getting better. Halfway through Pocahontas I looked back to see that she'd fallen asleep.

_Pity_, I thought, flipping off the TV. We usually had fun with Pocahontas, because we always pointed out the anachronisms, but secretly we both adored the movie.

I kissed Mom on the cheek, and went to my room, where I pulled Persuasion out of my bag. I curled up in an armchair in the living room to keep reading.

Mom woke up after a few hours, and seemed better, but her cough had gotten worse. "Phlegm," she said bitterly, coughing into a tissue as I started to fix grilled cheese in the kitchen.

"Last time I checked that wasn't exactly a flu symptom," I said.

"I get coughs with everything, sweetie. Promise, I'm fine."

"You keep saying that," I said, bringing the grilled cheese into the kitchen. "I'm less and less willing to believe you."

Mom eyed me as she bit into her sandwich. "You sound more and more like your father everyday."

"Actually, Mom, I think you've said exact phrase that to me."

Mom coughed, but it seemed to be more in reaction to what I'd said. "In that case, I sound like your father. Wonderful."

"Could be worse. You could sound like, dunno, Dr. Weasel or something."

"That would definitely be worse," Mom said, with a hoarse laugh. 

I smiled, grateful to have distracted her. We spent the rest of the evening watching movies and playing Uno. It seemed that Mom's fever was getting better, but the cough seemed to be getting worse. I noticed her wincing after the fits as well.

We went to bed early, both of us in Mom's bed. She woke up a few times during the night, and I heard her going out into the hall and coughing, I assume trying not to wake me. at one point I woke up when she was asleep and put a hand on her arm. It was burning up, and I knew that she'd had Tylenol recently enough that it should have broken.

But Mom was a doctor. Whenever I was sick she got me to the doctor and could usually tell him what was wrong with me. If something were really wrong she wouldn't be telling me that she was fine, would she?

The next day, things got worse. Mom was still coughing, and her breathing was rapid, as if she wasn't getting in enough air. I woke up at nine, and Mom was still asleep. I went into the living room and got my book, sitting on her bed next to her to read

After a few hours, when there was not a sound from Mom, I started to get worried. I marked my spot in the book and went over to the side of the bed, kneeling down by her.

"Mom? Mom are you all right? Mom, come on, wake up. You need to take another pill or something, you're really burning up."

I pushed her bangs out of her eyes and gently ran a finger over her cheek.

"Come on, Mom, wake up for me for a minute, okay?"

Mom was a deep sleeper, but usually any note of concern in my voice had her up in a second demanding to know who was bleeding or what had broken. This time her eyes opened slowly, and they were bleary as she focused on me.

"Mom? Mom, what's going on?"

She started to speak, but began to cough instead. I quickly helped her sit up, but it didn't seem to help. The coughing just kept going. Tears leaked out of the corners of Mom's eyes. She looked at me, trying to reassure me without words, but I saw something that seemed to be panic in her look and my heart began to race.

Finally the coughing fit died down enough for Mom to speak, very hoarsely. "I'm all right. I just need a glass of water."

I went hurriedly to the kitchen and brought her water, and then went back into her room to get the Tylenol. As I did I heard Mom start to cough again and my stomach turned over. It sounded really bad.

I took her the Tylenol, and sat next to her while she swallowed it she took my hand and squeezed it.

"Mom-," I said,

"Shh," she said, putting the glass down on the bedside. "No worries, remember? I'm going to be all right. It's just flu."

I nodded, but I was no longer convinced of that.

Mom drifted off to sleep again, her hand still in mine, but I didn't go back to my book. I sat there with Mom. A long time passed, and I just sat there. Usually I didn't have a very long attention span. It was one of Mom's pet-peeves when we were working on schoolwork; that I could never focus long enough to complete one assignment and then move on to the next one, I preferred to go back and forth.

Now, though, I just sat there, watching Mom. Eventually, I realized that it had been a long time, and her fever hadn't broken.

I put my hand to her forehead, and if anything it seemed to have gotten warmer. At that moment she went into a coughing fit, worse than the others, and she did not wake up.

"Mom!" I said, shaking her once more. "Mom, wake up. You're really sick, Mom, I think we should go to General."

Mom's eyes flickered open, and it took her nearly a minute to focus on me and realize what I was saying.

"Mom, we're going to the ER," I said firmly, sitting her up.

"No," she protested. "I'm fine, I just need sleep." She reached out for the water glass and started to take a sip, but her hand shook and it fell, crashing on the floor. "Crap. I'll get that."

"No way," I said. "Sit up, Mom, I'll be right back." I ran into my room and put on my shoes, then got hers. I had to help her put them on and then I pulled her to her feet and wrapped her up in Aunt Izzie's afghan. She started to cough into a Kleenex before we'd even left her room, and I noticed red spots on the Kleenex.

"Mom, is that blood?"

Mom looked at me and winced. "Yeah. I think I was wrong about the flu thing, pigeon."

_No kidding,_ I thought, but I didn't say anything.

We had to stop twice on the way to the car, because Mom went into coughing fits, and by the time we got to it she was wheezing. I felt panic in my chest. This was when I wished we had Dad here, or Aunt Izzie or any of Mom's other friends, Cristina or Alex or George. Alex was closest, he'd gone to work at a hospital in Providence, but even that wouldn't be any help now. I wondered if Mom ever felt this helpless.

I helped her into the passenger seat and then went to the driver's side. I drove as quickly as I could to General. The streets weren't too busy, since it was just past one o'clock, but if Mom had been feeling better she would have been snapping at me about how recklessly I was driving. I held Mom's hand with one of mine as we got to the ER parking lot, and walked with her inside.

The receptionist at the desk recognized us.

"Dr. Grey?" she said, her eyes wide. "Goodness. Here fill these out and we'll get her back ASAP. There's not many people."

"And why can't they just take her now?" I asked, coldly, "She's a doctor here, for Pete's sake."

"Shush, Hannah," Mom croaked. "It's triage. Nothing that can be done."

I quieted, but I wasn't satisfied with this explanation. We sat down in the classically uncomfortable chairs, and I stared at the form. I didn't understand half of what it said.

"Here," Mom said, and took the clipboard, but her hand was shaking as she started to fill it out.

"No, I'll do it. Tell me what to write," I said. She told me, in a whisper, coughing violently every few minutes.

When we'd finally finished it, I ran it back to the receptionist, unwilling to leave Mom for more than a minute.

"Oh, pigeon, I'm sorry about all this," Mom said, squeezing my hand.

"Mom, you can't help it," I said. "Don't be dumb. Every doctor here's going to be attempting to impress by curing you. It'll be entertaining."

Mom didn't smile, just squeezed my hand. I rested my head on her shoulder, and she put hers against mine. We stayed like that until they finally called for her. When I started to stand up, Mom didn't move.

"Mom," I said, crouching in front of her, "Come on. It's time to see the doctor." She didn't move. Her eyes were half open and she stared at me, not seeming to really see me. Her skin was red hot.

"Oh my God. Help us, please!" I cried to the nurse. She came rushing over with a wheelchair that she put Mom in. as we rushed back to the ER I saw the nurse glance at the 'No Minors Allowed Unless They Are a Patient' sign. "Forget it," I said, "I'm not leaving her." It was a tone that would make Mom call me a butthead and cuff me gently on the back of the head, but the nurse didn't comment, just pursed her lips together in a disapproving line.

Doctors with stethoscopes and IV needles started to swarm around Mom. I steadfastly refused to let go of her hand until an ER intern pulled me away. I then stood on the edge of the hubbub, biting my lip nervously. I thought for a minute that maybe I should call someone; Cristina or even Dad, but then thought Mom wouldn't want me to. We were self-sufficient, and independent.

A/N Review please!

From here on in, by the way, I apologize for any medical inaccuracies. I've tried my best, but as I'm neither a doctor nor do I play one on TV my expertise is limited :)


	5. Harder to Breathe

Chapter Four

It took a few hours for all of the tests to come back, and at some point during that Mom was admitted into the hospital. Her breathing had gotten worse, and they had put an oxygen mask on her. I sat by her bed in the small hospital room, her hand in mine as she slept. Eventually a doctor came in. I didn't recognize him, but that wasn't surprising since he wasn't a surgeon

"Hello," he said. "Um… is your father--."

"My father lives in Seattle, Washington." I said. "Like to or not, you're going to have to talk to me."

Mom must have woken up when the doctor came in; she squeezed my hand and lifted up the mask to speak.

"It's just Hannah and I, doctor, you'll have to speak to both of us," she said, her voice raspy.

The doctor nodded, as Mom replaced the mask and took my hand again.

"Okay. Dr. Grey, you have bacterial pneumonia. We haven't quite identified the strain yet, but we're going to start you on Vancomycin immediately and keep you here at least overnight to make sure that you respond to it."

This mostly went over my head, but I looked at Mom and she nodded.

"Okay, well," he turned to me, "You can bring your mother a bag, but strictly speaking minors aren't--."

"Dr. Loehle," Mom said, removing the mask again. "I think if you speak to Dr. Thomason he'll have a different view of Hannah's presence here." The referral to the chief of surgery, who, was quite possibly going to step up to head of the board soon, gave the doctor a start, and he nodded.

"Okay. Well. I suppose--." At that moment his pager went off, and he simply nodded at us and left. Mom turned to me and her eyes crinkled in a smile.

"Teach him to mess with us," I said, and she nodded.

"Okay. I'll go pack some stuff and come back," I said as a nurse came into the room.

"Hold it," Mom said, pulling the mask back and reaching out her hand for me. I leaned down by the bed so that she didn't have to speak loudly. "Don't touch the glass in my room; I don't care if it's still broken when I get home. And take the bus. The car had better be in the spot we parked it next time I see it, got it?"

"Got it. Promise. You don't have to go over it again," I said, smiling. Then I leaned down and kissed Mom's cheek. "I love you, Mommy," I said.

She squeezed my hand and I left the dark room, emerging into the bright hospital lights.

I seriously disliked public transportation, but I was nothing if not obedient, or at least at that moment, so I took the bus home.

It was nearly dark out by the time I went up to our apartment.

Going in there was eerie; it was just as we had left it, with Mom's bed unmade and the broken glass on the floor. I pulled out Mom's knapsack, which she usually used for consults that would really only take us a day or two, and threw stuff in it. Everything she needed was easily located and compacted, and I still had a change of clothes in my backpack from the week before.

As I started to leave my room, I turned and saw the stuffed bear I'd slept with for years sitting on my pillow. He'd been abandoned the past two nights when I slept with Mom, and I suddenly remembered the day when I had received him.

I was six, and it was during our summer vacation in Seattle. I'd stepped in a hole on Dad's land and twisted my ankle. It fractured, not badly but still requiring a cast. As soon as Mom arrived and could stay with me for a minute Dad disappeared to the gift shop and came back with Bear, a simple, brown teddy bear.

He'd simply presented him to me then, and I'd hugged him tightly as Mom signed my cast. Then, when Mom and I were packing up the car to come back to Boston, Dad had showed up at Mom's townhouse, which he rarely did.

"I forgot to tell you something about Bear," he said, leaning into the backseat of the car to talk to me, as George helped Mom put suitcases in the trunk. "Whenever you miss me, and can't call or write at that moment, give Bear a hug and he'll let me know, okay? Hug Bear and it'll be me hugging you back."

It was just the nonsense you told a little kid, but I believed him whole-heartedly. Mom must have overheard him telling me all of this, though, because a week later, when I'd been mad that I couldn't go out and play because of my leg I'd hugged Bear for all I was worth as I cried. That night, when Dad called to check up on me, the first thing he said when Mom handed me the phone was: "Bear told me that you felt lonely today."

Of course, I was much too old to believe all of that. Dad wouldn't know that something was wrong unless I told him and I wouldn't tell him unless Mom asked me to. I put Bear in my backpack nonetheless and hurried to catch a bus back to Boston General.

The bus was empty, except for an old man sitting in the back looking forlornly out the window. He looked too well-dressed to be homeless, and I couldn't help but wonder what his story was. When he looked up at me, I thought that he probably figured I was a runaway, since I had the knapsack and the backpack with me. If only he knew, I wasn't running away from anybody, if anything I was running too someone. I wasn't the typical teenage girl that couldn't stand her mother.

I leaned back against my seat and thought about that, running away. I'd overheard conversations between Mom and her friends when they thought I was asleep in Seattle. Aunt Izzie at least seemed to think that Mom had run away, and that the fact that we were always traveling meant that she was still running away. Running from any commitment, was what she'd said.

Mom had said something about the fact that she was committed to me, and Aunt Izzie had conceded that. "But Mer, are you even committed to yourself?" she'd said.

I didn't know what that meant at the time, I was only ten or so, but on the bus to the hospital I thought about it. Did Mom's refusal to admit that she had been really sick have anything to do with it?

But she would be fine, I told myself, getting off in front of the hospital and walking quickly through the front doors, so it didn't really matter.

In Mom's room, I found her still awake with the breathing mask off, which had to be a good sign. I put the bags down on the end of the bed and pulled out her nightgown. We both hated hospital gowns. I remembered her telling me about her hatred for them when I got my tonsils out.

"Bless you, child," Mom said with a smile. "Push that IV over her a bit."

She pulled herself up and pushed the buttons to turn the IV off, and then disconnected the tube. "If one of my patients ever did this, I'd kill them," she said, as I helped her untie the gown and put on her nightgown.

"If the doctor threatens anything, just throw the chief's name around. I thought he might squeal like a little girl."

Mom laughed, but it turned into a cough.

"Are you all right? Can't they give you something for that?" I asked as she hooked the IV back up.

"No. You can't fully suppress a cough with pneumonia," Mom explained, as I pulled my pajamas out of my backpack.

"Oh. Okay." I ducked into the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. When I went back into the room, I saw Mom was holding Bear, who must have fallen out of my bag when I pulled out my pajamas.

"Good old Bear," she said, holding him out to me. "You scared your dad to death with that fall."

"Really? He seemed to handle it well," I said, climbing into the bed next to her. It was a tiny hospital bed, but Mom and I were both skinny.

"Mmm, not so much when he called me," Mom said with a small smile. "Someone might have thought you'd broken your neck or something. He loves you a lot, pigeon."

"Oh, I know," I said.

Mom laughed. "You have his arrogance."

"Says the world-renowned brain surgeon," I teased.

"You've benefited significantly from that," Mom pointed out, and took my hand. "It can't be all bad having brain surgeons for parents, kiddo."

"There are certain benefits," I admitted with a yawn. The stress of the day was catching up for me, and the adrenaline draining away. Mom kissed my forehead, and closed her eyes.

She fell asleep long before I did, and I lay awake listening to her snore. Usually I slept with earplugs when we slept in the same room, something that had started from the first time I said: "Mommy, you make funny noises at night", but that night I wouldn't have cared if she snored like an overweight trucker because it meant she was breathing

A/N Please review, guys!!!

Okay, so, I'm going to Europe for three weeks, leaving Tuesday, which should, if my plans work, mean nothing to you guys. I've got this written pretty far ahead, and will have computer access all but nine days of the trip. Five of those days, my best friend is going to update for me, so at max you'll have a four day lull in late July Thanks for all the great reviews! I love you guys!


	6. It Only Hurts

Chapter Five

The problem was, the steady breathing didn't last long. I woke up at about two AM, and thought it was Mom's coughing that woke me, but when I pushed myself up on an elbow to look at her, I saw that she wasn't breathing right again. She was fumbling for the nurse call button, but I reached over it and pushed it before her fingers found it.

It was almost a full minute before the nurse's voice, far too cheerful for so early in the morning, sounded through the room. "May I help you?"

"It's my mom. She's having trouble breathing again. Hurry!" I said, and then looked back at Mom. "It's okay, Mommy. The nurse is coming, okay?"

Before she responded, the nurse was there, with an oxygen mask that she quickly slipped over Mom's head. She waited for a minute, making sure that the mask was doing its job, and then turned to the IV. My stomach flopped in fear that Mom unhooking the IV had caused something to go wrong with her medication, but the nurse clacked her tongue.

"Oh dear. I'm afraid she's not responding to the Vancomycin. I'll call the doctor, but we won't know for sure what she'll respond to until her labs have come in."

The nurse left, and it was suddenly quiet in the room. Mom's breathing had steadied, and she squeezed my hand, starting to lift the mask. "Oh no," I said. "That thing stays on. No talking. You can't help it, so no apologizing either. I'm not a little kid; I know that you're still the mom even though you're sick. So you can stop with the attempting to be fine thing, because it's okay that you're not."

I lay back down, my arm around her, and Mom gripped it with her hands, squeezing a little, then relaxed. I knew she was trying to comfort me as best she could, and it made me admire her all the more. I'd always admired Mom for setting out to raise me on her own, and not falling into the choosing between family and work trap. From what she'd let slip about my grandmother, Mom's decision on how to raise me was the exact opposite of her mother, except for being a single Mom in Boston. It must have been scary to set off from Seattle on her own.

Well, she wasn't on her own anymore. She had me. We were the Grey Girls. I'd called us that from the time I was three, never minding the fact that I legally had Dad's last name. I'd been watching reruns of Gilmore Girls at the time, but the name had stuck. Mom and I, we made it through things.

I finally drifted off, and didn't wake up again until the doctor came in at what can only be called crack-of-dawn thirty. I blinked, as he turned on the fluorescent light, and got quickly off of Mom's bed lest he comment.

"I hear we had trouble last night," he said. "I've gotten your labs back, and we're going to switch to a different type of marcrollide. Hopefully, this one will respond better and we won't have to look into different antibiotics. Since we're switching the antibiotic today, and had to provide oxygen last night," he gestured towards the mask, which I vaguely remembered a nurse who was taking Mom's vitals had allowed her to remove late in the night. I'm going to want you to stay at least one more night."

Mom nodded, "Okay. In that case, could you page Dr. Thomason and ask him to come see me? I'll need him to rearrange my schedule and reassign some of my cases."

The doctor looked almost startled that Mom could speak doctor, but then seemed to remember who he was dealing with. "Of course, Dr. Grey," he said. then he turned to me, handing a note over his shoulder to the nurse that had followed him in. "Looking out for here?" he asked, with what I can only call a pompous doctor smirk.

"Always," I replied, with the sweetest smile I could muster, and biting my tongue to keep from saying, _You ass_.

I waited, and said it after both the doctor and nurse had left.

"Language, Hannah," Mom said, with a small smile.

"Because you weren't thinking it," I retorted. "Seriously, he needs an attitude adjustment. You'd never let someone under you get away with that."

"Save following them around all the time, there's not much I can do about them being patronizing to a patient's teenage daughter who thinks herself to be older than fifteen," Mom said, as I dug around in my backpack. I pulled out the yarn and needles Aunt Izzie had given me last time we were in Seattle.

"Maybe this time I'll actually figure out how I'm supposed to do this," I said, sighing at the tangles.

"You could be doing your next exercise in the math book," Mom pointed out.

"Don't be silly. You're too sick to have to explain limits to me," I said quickly.

"Oh, am I?"

"Definitely," I said with a nod. Mom just shook her head and flicked on the TV.

A little while later, the nurse came in with the new antibiotics, and took Mom's vitals. Her temperature was up, despite the fever reducers. Which, Mom pointed out when the nurse had left, was to be expected since the antibiotics hadn't worked.

Around lunchtime, I put down the knitting, amazed that I'd been able to keep at it that long, since I was making little progress. Of course I'd been frequently distracted by Mom's commentary on the TV she was watching.

"I sometimes forget why I never bother with subscribing to cable. I think maybe it's the fact that we travel all the time and are never home anyway. And then I watch this crap," she said, as there was a tap on the door. It opened to reveal Dr. Thomason, the chief of surgery.

Since I knew he and Mom were going to talk business, I decided that it would be a good time to go home and get another outfit for the next day. I'd prefer to be riding the bus in the day time, and not with creepy old men.

"Okay, pigeon," Mom said, when I told her this plan, "Check the mail while you're there."

"Yeah," I said, then kissed her cheek and went out into the hall.

Another bus ride; and I got out at our building. I was stopped from going straight inside by Warrington, our old and fat landlord.

"Hannah, hello. I thought you and your mother must be on another one of your trips, because no one answered when I knocked yesterday."

"Oh…. Yeah…. Mom's been at the hospital," I pointedly did not say 'in the hospital'. There was no point in him sticking his fat nose in.

"Oh, right. Well, listen, Hannah, we've had a series of break-ins in the neighborhood. I've been telling everyone to be on the alert. I know that your mom works nights sometimes, but it would really be better to have someone home at night, until we get the burglars caught. Which, of course, the police will, so no need to be alarmed."

I didn't bother to point out the extremely contradictory nature of that statement, but I nodded and slid past him. "We'll be on the look out. No worries."

Inside the building I decided that I'd just have to sleep there that night. Mom would be okay, I guessed. I didn't want to, but I didn't want anything to happen to our stuff either.

I grabbed the clothes I needed and stuffed them into my backpack, then checked the mailbox. Thumbing through it, I saw the envelope that undoubtedly had Dad's child-support check. I took it, and left the rest of the mail on the counter.

I could have stayed at the apartment longer, taken a shower or just relaxed, but I didn't want to stay away from Mom that long. So, I hopped on the next bus and was back at the hospital less than half an hour after I'd left.

There was not the quiet or long talk with the chief going on in Mom's room as I had expected. I found a nurse standing over Mom who was sitting up in bed, being sick in an emesis basin, while the chief stood awkwardly in the corner of the room.

"Mom!" I exclaimed, going to her side and taking her hand. "What's wrong?" I demanded of the nurse.

"Looks like she must be allergic to this medication," the nurse said, as she smoothed Mom's sheets. Mom lay back on the pillow, breathing heavily, but her mouth turned up in an attempt to smile at me.

"It happens, pigeon," she told me, her voice low. "Not the best thing to happen, but it happens."

I nodded, and sat back in the chair I had vacated, earlier, then jumped up quickly and removed the knitting from the chair before sitting back down again. Mom laughed at me, but it was hoarse and sounded choked.

"Dr. Thomason, I'm sorry to have kept you," she said, turning to him. I wondered if he noticed the slight pink tinge in her cheeks that I did.

"Not at all, Meredith. Get well soon. You've plenty of vacation time."

When he left I turned to her. "What vacation time is he talking about?"

Mom smirked. "He stopped counting the day or two it took me to get back from any consult as vacation a long time ago, because of how happy it makes the patients that they don't have to travel themselves. It reflects well on the hospital."

"See, I told you, he knows you're the best."

Mom smiled. "Still, I'm not happy that the meds didn't work. I hate being in the hospital. Had enough of it when I was an intern. Of course, I was never as bad as Cristina."

'What'd she do?" I asked, although I was pretty sure I'd heard that story before.

"Refused to stop treating patients even after she was admitted into the hospital. Solved a mystery about a hypochondriac patient, though."

I nodded, but was only half listening. The fact that Mom had not responded to those meds did not make me any happier about the idea of leaving her that night. I didn't tell her what Warrington said, just thought about it as I pulled out a book that she'd assigned me and started to read aloud.

We didn't have much that could be stolen, if anyone did break in. All of the things my grandmother had brought back from traveling were in the Seattle house, and Mom and I didn't buy that many souvenirs. All our pictures were saved on Mom's laptop, which was in her office at the hospital.

The only valuable things were Mom's records, in two boxes under her bed. There was no way I could get those on the bus. A plan came to me after Dr. Loehle had come in to order another medication, but I didn't say anything.

It wasn't long after he came in, that the door opened to reveal Dr. Gregory, the weasel. I glanced at Mom, who had quickly closed her eyes and was attempting to feign sleep.

"Dr. Gregory, I'm sorry, but Mom's really not feeling well. Maybe you should come back later," I said, in a whisper, standing up and guiding him back out the door.

"Oh. I came as soon as I heard she was sick."

"That's nice of you. I'll tell her."

"Where're you staying, Hannah? With your Mom in here, I mean. Since, you know, your father's in Seattle, right?"

Yeah, I did know that. "Um… here with Mom, actually."

"Oh, I didn't think that was all-."

"Dr. Wea- Dr. Gregory, I'm sorry, but I really should get back to my mother. I'm sure you understand."

I ducked back into Mom's room. It seemed that she really had fallen asleep. She looked pale, I noted, as I turned off the light, but maybe a little better. I'd noticed that her cough had gotten better. Then, I had figured that if Mom could survive drowning, pneumonia wouldn't stop her.

A/N Review as always, loves! In \London. So amazing!!!!!!


	7. Still Awake

Chapter Six

Late that night, when Mom was asleep, I snuck out of her room and into the still bright light of the room. No better plan had come to me, and Dr. Loehle had said, when he switched Mom's medication, that he wanted her here at least another night. There was no way I was leaving her all night, not since she'd had so much trouble with the meds, and hadn't been able to get to the nurse call button the night before.

So, when Mom asked me to get her cell phone out of her purse so that she could call our cleaning lady and tell her not to come, I had also taken the keys out and slipped them in my pocket. It was one in the morning when I took the elevator to the parking garage. Our little blue car was an island in the garage, since it was so late. I'd been counting on that.

Nervously, I unlocked it and got into the driver's seat. "Okay," I said to myself. "I can do this."

I put the key in the ignition, and started it up. I'd never driven alone before, and I turned on the radio immediately, hoping that it would make me feel less alone.

In my head I could hear Mom's voice instructing me as I backed out and started out of the garage. I nearly had a heart attack when after one turn I saw headlights coming at me, but it was just another car turning into a spot on the surgical floor. Probably an on-call doctor getting called in.

The streets were as close to deserted as they ever got, which was what I had counted on, and I made the trip to our apartment faster than usual. In the house, I wasted no time in pulling the boxes out from under the bed and starting to carry them to the car, stacked up on top of each other. I could barely see over them, but on my way past the phone I saw that the voicemail light was blinking.

I put the boxes down and sneezed as a cloud of dust came up. Then I picked up the receiver and dialed the voicemail.

"Hi Meredith and Hannah Marie! It's Izzie! I just wanted to tell you all that Michael and I are planning to come to Boston in a month or so, and wanted to see if you would be in town, or could try to be in town! Hope to hear from you soon! Bye!"

I smiled, wondering how Aunt Izzie managed to end every sentence with an exclamation point.

Well, not every sentence, I thought, as I loaded the boxes into the trunk of the car. She hadn't been as perky as usual when she told me about her daughter, who shared my name. Mom hadn't known, when she'd named me, and she'd been in Boston by then. Izzie never told her, but she told me one day, when I was eight. I think it just slipped out.

"I had a baby, when I was too young to take care of her," she told me. "And her new parents named her Hannah." It was why she always called me Hannah Marie instead of plain Hannah like everyone else.

The drive back was even less eventful, and I pulled back into the parking garage very pleased with myself. Then I wondered whether to leave the boxes in the car or take them in. The car was too open, I decided, Mom wouldn't like it if I attempted to keep the records from being stolen at our house and then they disappeared from the car.

Luckily for me, I knew my way around the hospital better than anyone. I took a service elevator to Mom's floor, coming out behind the nurses' station, and went into Mom's room within seconds of a nurse having gone into the room across the hall. Relieved at having not been noticed, I crept to the side of the room opposite the door and put the boxes down by my chair.

"What the hell, Hannah?"

Oops. Mom was awake. I straightened up and looked at her sheepishly. "Um…. So, when I went home today, Warrington said there had been break-ins and someone should be in the apartment at night. But I didn't want to leave you at night, and so," I gestured towards the boxes.

"And here I was thinking that you hadn't inherited my paranoia." Mom said with a sigh. "I guess it's too much to hope that you figured out how to rescue my records from a hypothetical thief on the bus," she paused. "Which stops running this late…Never mind. I don't want to know."

I smiled and sat on the bed. "How're you feeling? You sound better."

"Looks like they may have gotten it right this time," Mom said.

"Cool," I said, smoothing the afghan that I had spread on the bed before I left. "Aunt Izzie called; she and the boy toy will be coming into town next month."

"That'll be good. I'll just leave you home if I have a consult and you can entertain her."

"Or, you can delegate a consult for once," I said, lying down.

"You're going to have to wash this thing so it doesn't smell like hospital when we get back," Mom said, fingering the afghan.

"Mmm. Aunt Izzie gave us wool-wash with it. I think I can manage," I said sleepily, really fighting not to add: like I managed driving the car by myself.

"You know, pigeon, I think I should be grateful that the most deviant things you do are so that you can save the record collection. My mother would have been much happier if that's how I had behaved."

"I did consider dying my hair pink while I was at it."

"That's my girl."

The next morning, when Dr. Loehle came in at god-early o'clock again, he noticed the boxes. "Moving in?" he asked, with the smirk that I seriously wanted to slap off of him.

"No," I said, simply.

He blinked. "Right. Okay. So, we're looking good. You should be discharged bright and early tomorrow, Dr. Grey. I'd suggest staying off of work for the rest of the week."

Mom nodded, and the doctor left, glancing at me again.

"Did I ever tell you that Callie used to literally live in the hospital?" Mom said, rolling over to face me. "And then it turned out she was a million- ow!" she said, shifting back to her back.

"What is it?"

Mom shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all, sweetie. So, any other messages?"

I shook my head. "No. Oh! I think Dad's--."

Mom put up a hand and cut me off. "Hey kiddo, do your old mom a favor and help me get up?"

"Yeah, of course," I said, and then stood up to take Mom's arm and help her to the bathroom. She felt warm, still, but not as hot as she had the day before.

"Mom, if the medicine is working, shouldn't you not have fever anymore?"

She bit her lip, and then smiled. "Don't worry, it's fine." I didn't believe her.

A little while later, I was reading aloud again, when I heard Mom moan slightly. I dropped the book, literally dropped it on the floor, and looked over at her. She looked red, and when I touched her arm it was burning up. As I went over to the nurse call button, she rolled onto her side in a ball, and I saw that she was trembling.

"Oh, Mom," I said, putting my hand on her arm.

"May I help you?"

I suddenly wished that my reply could be 'Mom's IV is beeping' or even an obnoxious, 'I just wanted to see what the button did' but instead I found my voice was high with panic as I said, "Something's wrong."

I left it at that, and climbed onto the bed, my arms around Mom's shoulders. "It's okay, Mommy," I said, then I began to murmur the lullaby Mom always sang to me if I was sick, or scared, or just couldn't sleep: "Where are you going my little one/little one/Where are you going my baby my own/Turn around and you're two/Turn around and you're four/Turn around and you're a young babe/Going out of the door."

The nurse came in and shepherded me off the bed, and I stood by the wall as she asked Mom questions and Mom answered in a whisper.

"I think she's come down with a secondary infection," the nurse said. "I'll page Dr. Loehle immediately."

I nodded, and went back to sit on Mom's bed, rubbing her back. "We don't make things easy for them, us Grey Girls," I said.

"Sorry pigeon," Mom whispered.

"I'm not complaining," I said. "They need to learn how to treat the best brain surgeon around, and her daughter. I just want you to get well, Mommy. You don't deserve to get this sick."

Mom didn't say anything. I brushed her hair out of her face, and kissed her cheek. "Besides," I said, trying to make my voice light. "It keeps me from having to do calculus."

As sick as she was, Mom managed to reach over and slap my arm lightly. "It's double the work next week for that one," she said.

I only smiled.

The doctor came in within fifteen minutes. "Tricky customer, Dr. Grey," he said. "We'll put you on another antibiotic that should fight both the infection and the pneumonia; you'll be in here for a few days more." He looked at me, but before he could say anything, the door opened and Dr. Weasel stood there.

"Dr. Loehle," he said in greeting, looking worriedly at Mom. "Something wrong?"

Dr. Loehle looked at Mom, who nodded. "Dr. Grey's developed a secondary infection," he explained.

"I see. I'm incredibly sorry to hear that, Meredith. Dr. Loehle, may I see you in the hall?"

Dr. Loehle nodded, and followed him out. I stood at the door, trying to overhear what they were saying. I expected Mom to say something about eavesdropping, but she had fallen into a light sleep as soon as they left.

I couldn't really hear anything distinctly, with the exception of two words: social services.

A/N Review please!

Gotta love reckless teenagers who take things way too seriously. I thought the lullaby was particularly appropriate for Meredith and her thoughts on time. It's actually a few verses longer, and I really like it.

London is fantastic, by the by. Next update will come from Paris!!!!

PS. Derek lovers, just wait ;) So I ever disappoint when it comes to McDreamy?


	8. Come To You

Chapter Seven

Once I was sure that Mom was going to stay asleep for a little while I left the room to go use the laptop in her office. I still had her keys in my pocket from the night before. That solo drive seemed to have taken place ages ago.

I turned it on, and had barely booted it up and signed on to the internet service provider before a video message popped up. I smiled and turned the volume up on the computer.

"Hello there, love, how are ya?" Alfie asked. Alfie was the son of a prominent Australian surgeon. I'd met him at a conference in London three years before. It'd been Christmas vacation for him, and my first trip overseas. We'd had an instant friendship, running all over the hotel and getting into trouble, and thanks to the internet we'd gotten close over the years.

"Not good," I said, fumbling with the microphone and headset.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Where are you? It's definitely not your flat."

"No, I'm in Mom's office. That's it. Mom's actually in the hospital, not just working at the hospital."

"Oh Hannah, I'm sorry. What's going on?" Alfie's green eyes went wide with worry, and he reached up to push a piece of his curly blond hair out of his eye. In the background I could see his younger sister Kayla jumping on their sofa.

"Tell Kayla that furniture isn't for jumping before she breaks her neck.

"Mom's got pneumonia. It's taken two antibiotics, and now she's got an infection. I'm kind of scared," I admitted. "And worst of all is Dr. Weasel and Mom's doctor were talking and I definitely heard them say something about social services. There's absolutely no way I'm leaving Mom. She needs me!" I was close to tears.

"Oh love, I wish I was there with you. I think you should call someone, one of your mum's friends or even your dad."

"I guess you're right. I didn't at first, because Mom and I can take care of ourselves, but—." I paused. My cell phone was ringing from inside my backpack. "Hang on."

Dad's name flashed on my caller id. I bit my lip, wondering what to tell him, then just flipped the phone open and muted the computer.

"Hello?"

"Hey there kiddo, how are you?"

"I'm… fine. What's up?"

"Nothing. I was just calling to make sure that everything was okay; your mom hasn't deposited the check, and usually she does it quickly. I was wondering if it got lost in the mail again. I didn't think you guys were on one of your treks, so I just thought I'd check in."

I hesitated. I was about to tell him that we were fine. Fine. Mom's word, the one that was always a lie.

"Things are fi-…. Actually, they're not fine. They're definitely not fine. Daddy…. Mom's in the hospital and she has pneumonia and an infection and seriously things just keep getting worse." I almost said 'And I don't like it' like a five-year-old, but kept that part to myself.

"Whoa. Repeat that, except breathe between each bad thing, okay sweetheart?"

I obeyed, and not only did the whole breathing thing make me more understandable, but it calmed me.

"What do the doctors say?"

"They're changing her medication. That she'll be fine in a few more days. But Daddy, they said that before."

I heard him inhale deeply. "Okay. I think they're probably right this time, but I'm going to come out there. I'll be there by Tuesday at the absolute latest."

It was Sunday. "Okay," I said, in a voice that was much, much smaller than I wanted it to be. "Thank you, Daddy."

"You should have called me earlier, baby girl," he chided. "Did Mom tell you not to?"

"No. She didn't say anything. I just figured… we've been okay on our own. And besides you have stuff there, your work, Kathleen…."

"Wrong there. Kathleen is no longer a part of the picture."

"Seriously? Last time I was there it seemed like you were finally going to get around to proposing!"

"Yeah…. But then I began to wonder why it had taken me so long and--- never mind, kiddo. That's for me to think about. But stop panicking, okay? Breathe, and I'll be there soon."

"I'm not the one who's had breathing problems the past few days; that's Mom."

"It could be genetic," Dad murmured.

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I tried to reassure him anyway. "I'll be fine, Daddy. I'm worried about Mommy is all," My voice trembled uncooperatively.

"I know sweetheart. You've been very brave. I'll see you soon."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

I closed my phone and a wave of relief rushed over me. I turned to the laptop, and was startled by Alfie's face being there. I'd forgotten about him. I laughed after I focused on him. It seemed that he'd been making faces at me the whole time, since he now had one finger pushing up his nose, and was sticking his tongue out.

"You're a loser," I said, turning the volume back on.

"You seem better. Was that your dad?"

"Yeah. He's going to come. I hope Mom isn't mad that he's coming out here."

"She won't be. Not if she still loves him like you said. All righty, love. I'm awfully sorry, but I've got to go. Promised Kayla I'd take her to the park or some rubbish like that. See you later."

"Later," I said, and then pulled off the microphone.

Back in Mom's room, she'd woken up, and when I went to kiss her she seemed cooler.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Better," she said. "At least a little."

"Do us both a favor, and try and keep it that way," I said. "Not that I don't think you've been trying," I added, suddenly feeling bad about the snide remark.

"Shush," she said. "Come lie down with me." I obeyed, slipping my shoes off and lying with her.

"How're you doing, my sweet girl?" Mom asked, pushing my hair out of my face.

"I'm fine. I talked to—to Alfie," I said, trying to catch myself from saying 'Dad'.

"How's the cute Australian doing?"

"Good. Still trying to pretend he's all macho and doesn't enjoy playing with his eight-year-old sister."

"Wonder if he'll ever learn that girls like sensitive guys," Mom mused.

"I'll teach him," I said, and then clamped my mouth shut, blushing.

Mom laughed. "Ha! I knew it. Just friends, huh? Sure, kid."

"Oh…. Shut up," I said. "He's…. well…. My best friend, you know? Except more."

"I do know, but my best guy friends were both gay or George…. So…. Yeah."

"What about Dad?" I asked.

Mom's smile faded, and I almost took it back, but she lifted up the hand without the IV in it and put it behind her head. I snuggled down next to her.

"Your father…. He was more than my best friend…. He was…. My everything," she admitted.

"Then why--?"

Mom shook her head. "It's in the past, sweetie. It's all a long time ago. Maybe one day I'll tell you the whole story. Now… to be honest… well, baby, it's still pretty painful for all those involved."

Mom had never been that candid with me about Dad. We'd talked about everything else in the universe on our trips, over dinner, at night, but never her relationship with Dad. I didn't say anything, at first, hoping to not break the moment.

"You," I said hesitantly, staring at the ceiling. "You used to cry. You didn't think I heard but…. At night sometimes…. And…" I didn't want to say it, but I felt that maybe now was the time. "You still do. Not as much, but whenever we leave Seattle or you talk to Dad for a long time on the phone… you cry."

"Oh pigeon. I never thought you knew that. My perceptive girl," Mom said. She didn't say anything further. We lay there for a long time, until a nurse came in to change the IV bag and take Mom's vitals.

The next day things seemed much better, but Mom still had fever. Dr. Loehle appeared for a second time around ten, and didn't seem to mind that Mom was asleep.

"Hannah, could you come with me for a second?" he asked, sounding oddly patient. I placed my knitting, which was actually going pretty steadily, on the floor by my chair and warily followed him out the door.

When I got there I almost bolted. Dr. Weasel stood there, next to a lady in a black jacket and skirt with square plastic glasses. Her appearance screamed social worker.

"Oh no," I said, backing up against Mom's door. "You're not taking me anywhere."

"No one wants to," The woman said, patiently, reaching out to put a hand with clawlike nails on my arm. "We just want to see if we can find you a place to sleep. You see Hannah; it's against the rules for a minor to stay at the hospital unless you're admitted. I know they've been bent recently," she shared a glance with Dr. Weasel.

"He's just mad because Mom won't go out with him!" I said, glaring at them both.

"Hannah!"

"It's true!" I protested. "And besides, I've almost never spent a night away from Mom unless I'm with my dad, and definitely not when she's this sick! I'm all she's got! My dad's coming soon, too!" I added.

"From what I've heard," the social worker said, still keeping that sickeningly calm voice, "You're father isn't very involved. He lives in Seattle, doesn't he?"

"So? He's still coming. There are things called airplanes! He's worried about Mom and he's coming. He loves us, both of us!"

"Hannah, please, just come with me. We'll bring you back to your mom as soon as we discuss some things," the social worker said, clamping my arm more firmly and pulling me with her.

"Get off of me!" I exclaimed, trying to wrench myself out of her grip. "Call Dr. Thomason, he'll tell you! I'm allowed to stay here! Let go!"

"What's going on here?" a voice said. The social worker quickly dropped my arm and I spun around.

"Daddy!" I exclaimed. I'd never been so glad to see anyone in my life. I ran to him and jumped into his open arms. It was just like the time when he had convinced me that my teddy bear sent him messages, I'd had full faith and he'd come through. He hugged me hard enough to knock the breath out of me and pulled me off the floor for a second. When he put me down, I clutched his arm and stood slightly behind him.

"Is there a problem? I'm Dr. Derek Shepard, Hannah's father, by the way. I just flew in from Seattle."

Dad's voice was jovial, and he reached out a hand to Dr. Loehle who shook it.

"No, er, Dr. Shepard," the social worker said. "We were just concerned, about your daughter being alone while her mother was hospitalized."

"Last I heard," Dad said, "Hannah and her mother were pretty much attached at the hip. I don't think either of them would really appreciate your concern, I'm sorry to say. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Er…. No," the social worker said.

"Good to know."

"Come on, Daddy," I said, taking his hand and looking pointedly at Dr. Weasel. "Mom'll be glad to see you."

Mom had somehow managed to sleep through all of my shrieking in the hall, and we went quietly into her room.

Dad went over to the bed, and I watched as he tenderly moved her hair off of her face. "Meredith," he whispered gently.

"Mmm, Derek?" Mom said sleepily. Her eyes fluttered open. "Derek?" she repeated in shock. She stared at him, and then looked over at me. "What kind of drugs am I on, pigeon?"

I laughed, and Dad answered. "No drugs, Mer. I promise. Although, I could always suggest morphine for hours of fun."

"Shut up," Mom said, but she smiled.

"That's a story I don't think I've heard," I said, coming over and sitting on the end of the bed.

"And you're not going to, until you're much older," Mom said. "What's he doing here?" she gestured at Dad, while he helped her to sit up.

I bit my lip, and Dad looked at me. "I'm going to go get a cup of coffee. Long flight." He left the room, leaving Mom and I alone.

He'd barely left before I burst into tears. Mom reached out to me, alarmed. "Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong?" she pulled me to her, and I cried into her shoulder.

"The doctors," I finally gasped out. "They… they tried to take me away." I began to cry harder.

"Baby, I'm going to need more details than that," Mom said, stroking my hair.

"They called a social worker, and I heard them talking yesterday about it, so when Dad called I told him you were in here. He said he'd be here by tomorrow, that he'd broken up with Kathleen and could come by then, but then now they brought the social worker and were going to make me leave you but Dad got here," I explained through sniffles.

"Oh, baby girl, I'd never let them take you anywhere."

"It's what happens, though, to any other patient. A kid can't be on their own. And Dr. Weasel was on their side."

"Dr. Weasel's a sad, sad little man," Mom said. "They'd have had to talk to me before doing anything, pumpkin, and I'd have set them straight."

"But you were so sick. They might not have listened. But Daddy told them. He saved me from them. Like you would have if you weren't sick."

Mom laughed. "I bet he did. Come here, precious. It's okay. It's all okay. I promise. I've got you. Mommy's got you, okay?"

I nodded, but I was still crying. "I was scared, Mom," I admitted. "I didn't want to tell you."

"I know, baby. I should have told you to call Daddy or someone earlier. I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault," I said. "You were the sick one."

"But I'm the Mom."

I laughed at the familiar phrase. Mom wiped away one of my tears with her finger and kissed my cheek. "There. Better, pigeon?"

I nodded, and then found my eyes closing. I heard Dad come back in, and felt the bed shift as he sat on the edge.

"How are you, really, Mer? No lies."

"No lies? I'm…. I'm glad you're here, Derek."

I tried to listen to the rest of their conversation, but Mom's hand was rhythmically rubbing my back and the stress of the past days, and my close encounter with the social worker was drifting away. Without wanting to, I fell asleep.

A/N Review please!


	9. Family

Chapter Eight

"That is definitely not the same spot where we parked that car," Mom accused, as an orderly pushed her out to the parking garage.

"You just want it not to be, so that you can have reason to, like, ground me or something," I said. "It's definitely where we parked it. You were too sick to notice anyway."

"You've never been grounded in your life," Mom pointed out and I shrugged.

"Tell me again why the records had to come to the hospital too?" Dad said. He was carrying said records, while I carried Mom's and my bags.

I rolled my eyes. "Why? So you can make fun of me about it?"

"Something like that," he agreed, with a smirk. I tossed the bags into the trunk and hit him in the arm.

"Don't listen to him, pigeon," Mom said, as the orderly helped her into the passenger seat. "He's just as proud of you as I am for keeping things together. And he also doesn't understand the value of those things."

"He also had to carry them out here," Dad chimed in, getting into the driver's seat.

"Whatever. It's not that bad. I've done it," I reminded him. "Man, it feels weird to sit in the backseat."

"If your father had his way you'd always sit back there," Mom pointed out. "If he had it his way, you'd still be five--." She broke off in a cough. The doctors had said that it might not go away completely for several weeks.

I sat back, looking out the window, with the occasional glance at Mom and Dad. It felt really strange to have anyone but Mom or I driving the car and even weirder to have them both in a confined space. Before the past week, I couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

Dad and I had placated the authorities and he'd taken me back to the apartment to sleep whenever visiting hours were over. Any time other than that we spent with Mom. They didn't fight, but then, I'd never really seen them fight. There was something strained in their conversations, but it wasn't anger. I wasn't sure what it was.

When we pulled up to the apartment, I went around to the trunk to get the bags. Dad got out of his seat, and before Mom could get out of her seat, he was there. The next thing I knew he'd picked Mom up and was carrying her to the door of our building. And Mom was laughing.

I had to stop myself from straight out staring at them. "Derek, you idiot, put me down! I'm perfectly capable of walking!" Mom protested.

"I know you are," Dad said, but he didn't put her down. "Kiddo, come up and open the door."

I shouldered my backpack and grabbed Mom's knapsack and went to open the door for them. On the elevator Dad still didn't put Mom down. It wasn't until we got into the apartment that he deposited her on the couch. I went to put the bags in our rooms, but as I did I glanced back at Mom. I don't think I'd ever seen that particular look on her face. She looked happy. I mean, I'd seen her happy before, but not in that way.

Even though Mom was home, and Dad had been there for a little over a week, he didn't say anything about going back to Seattle and I wasn't dumb enough to ask him. That night, he decided to cook, and went around the kitchen shaking his head in despair at the emptiness of our cabinets.

"It would all be bad by now anyway," I pointed out.

"That's beside the point," Dad said, and then he disappeared to go grocery shopping. I sat down on the couch next to Mom, who had her laptop and was reading emails about patients that would need her attention when she went back to work.

"I told you he wouldn't like our eating habits," she told me.

"Yeah," I said, sitting back against the arm of the sofa.

Mom glanced over at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. It's a little weird, isn't it? Having your dad here?"

"Yeah. It is a little weird. But not bad," I added, hopeful that she wouldn't take my uneasiness as an excuse to tell Dad to leave.

"No," she agreed. "Not bad."

"Think we can get him to change that light-bulb in my room that's been out for the past month and a half?" I asked, with a grin.

"That is one thing that having a man around just might be good for," Mom said with a laugh. I noticed that she didn't specify for how long we'd have said man around.

Just an hour later, at dinner, it seemed as if all of my hopes of Dad sticking around might be dashed. Over the lasagna that he'd made, Mom cleared her throat and said, "I've been asked to go to Philadelphia on a consult. It's not an emergency, but they want me there by Monday."

I looked up, glancing between Mom and Dad. I was excited about the trip, but I also didn't want Dad to go. Things were going so well.

Dad didn't say anything for a moment. He took a bite of lasagna off of his fork, chewed it thoughtfully and swallowed. "Well…," he said. "As much confidence as I have in Hannah's caretaking abilities, I'd be more comfortable if someone else went along with you… and as I happen to be free…."

"Yes!" I cried. "Oh my gosh, Dad that'd be so much fun! Can he come with us, Mom?" I was aware that I sounded slightly like a seven-year-old begging for a puppy, but I'd never had Dad around for so long.

Mom looked down at her plate for a long moment, but when she looked up she was smiling, albeit somewhat nervously. "Sure. Why not?" From her tone, I could tell that she could think of a couple of reasons why not, but she didn't voice them. "We'll leave day after tomorrow. Hannah, tonight you can start planning the return trip. We'll go to the library tomorrow and figure out your history work."

"Okay," I agreed.

"What's this?" Dad asked, as he and I began to clear the table.

"Oh, Mom and I base a lot of my lessons around wherever our trips go. We've been to Philly a bunch, so now we're kind of pulling for things. There's only so much you can learn about Ben Franklin. Last time we were there I studied the British occupation. The first time, I was five, so Mom and I read the book Ben and Me, a kids book about Franklin told by a mouse. Last summer I studied electricity. Stuff like that."

"Ah. Sounds like fun. And the return trip?"

I grinned. "I find every awesome sounding tourist trap and we stop to check them out."

Dad's grin faded a little, and he looked over my shoulder at Mom. "Seriously?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I turned to see Mom's response. She was grinning, her chin rested on folded hands. "Seriously. We've found a lot of interesting things out that way, right pigeon?"

"Yup. Sometimes we go a little out of the way, too. One time we went to Lancaster and Mom had teenage Amish boys hitting on her."

"Really now, Mer?" Dad asked, putting a hand on the counter. "I never thought you'd be one for the plain life."

Mom stuck her tongue out at him. "Yes, well, I'm told that there are some who would not peg you for the fisherman that you are."

Dad laughed. "Yeah, okay, you win."

I grinned at them both, and then began to load the dishes into the dishwasher.

Mom went to bed not long after, and I followed her into her room to say good night. "It should be fun, huh Mom? To have Daddy with us in Philly?"

Mom sat on the edge of her bed. "C'mere pigeon. I think we need to have a talk."

I sat. "I didn't clean up the glass, it was Dad," I said, hoping rather half-heartedly that that was all she had to say.

"I figured as much. You know that that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I know," I conceded. "You're going to tell me that just because Dad is here now doesn't mean he's staying. That you two have a lot to work out, and that a lot of people were hurt, a long time ago. Right?"

Mom sighed, staring at her bedroom wall. "Yeah, that's about it. When did you learn to read my mind?"

"Some time before I learned to read 'See Spot run'," I said. "But Mom, wouldn't it be… I dunno… nice if he could stick around? If you guys…." I trailed off, knowing that she'd know what I meant even if I couldn't put into words.

Mom shrugged. "Sure it would. But things don't always work out."

"I know that. You told me that a long time ago. When I first asked you if 'Happily ever after' was true. You said that it was, but it wasn't always the way that people expected it to be."

"That's right. I still believe that. You and I have been pretty happy after all, but it's not in the conventional way of things."

"True statement," I acknowledged. "Okay. But is it okay if I still hope that he sticks around?"

"Sure. Because…. Wanna know a secret, pigeon?" I nodded. Mom smiled. "I'm kind of hoping that too."

"Yeah. I could tell," I said. "Okay, you need to sleep; you have patients to operate on this week."

"I should probably call Dr. Thomason and tell him I have a consult. He'll kill me," Mom said, as she climbed under her covers.

"Mmm, I think the only one who will be really disappointed is Dr. Weasel. Although, having met Dad, he may no longer be disillusioned about his chances."

Mom chuckled softly, and I leaned down to kiss her goodnight. "Love you, Mommy," I said.

"I love you too, baby girl. More than anything."

I left her room, and went out to the couch, where Dad was sitting fiddling with his cellphone.

"Talking about me?" he asked, as he typed in an e-mail.

"But of course," I replied, sitting down next to him. "We're both glad you're here."

He put the phone down on the coffee table and put his arm around me. "Me too, kiddo. I feel like I've missed so much of your life."

I didn't quite know what to say to that, so I settled on teasing. "I thought Bear kept you informed."

To my surprise, his reply was serious. He let out a deep sigh. "I wish that was true, Hannah-Banana. Believe me. I wish…. I wish now that I'd managed to stop your mother from getting on that plane."

That time, I really didn't know what to say, so I just snuggled closer to Dad and breathed in his smell. That was one thing I always loved. At that moment it had mixed with the smell of the hospital, and our house but there was still the musky smell of outdoors, and fishing and safety. Dad hugged me tightly and kissed the top of my head. We stayed on the couch like that for a long time before he sent me to bed.

Late that night, I was awakened by the sound of a door closing. Afraid that something was wrong with Mom; I went to my door and opened it. Mom's door was ajar, and I looked down the hall. They were sitting on the sofa, Dad's arm around Mom lightly. Not as tight as it had been around me. More as if he were going to be able to jerk it away if she said anything. They were talking in quiet voices and I decided to let them have their privacy. I went back to bed. I fell asleep again and never did hear Mom's door shut again.

A/N Review please!

The best laid plans... this should have gone up over a week ago, sorry guys! But I'm back in the States now!


	10. We Look Pretty Happy

Chapter Nine

An hour into the drive to Philadelphia I was already disenchanted with the whole 'sitting in the backseat' thing.

"Hey Mom, "I said, "Is Alex coming up for my birthday next month?"

"He better, "Mom said. She was driving, but Dad said they'd switch when we stopped for lunch. I wasn't a fan of this plan, since I wanted to drive some. Mom said the next trip we went on I could drive on the interstate, but she seemed to have forgotten. "Or he'll hear from me about it."

"Going to beat him to a pulp with your tiny, ineffectual fists?" Dad asked.

"Watch it, or I may do it to you," Mom replied. There was silence for a minute. "You know, of all of us interns, Alex was perhaps the most beat up on. I mean, me, and then he got the crap knocked out of him by George when George got syph."

"Whoa! Time out! Alex got beat up by _George?_ And what's this about syph?"

"Oh… nothing," Mom said, evasively. "It was a long time ago."

"Well, didn't Callie attempt to knock you around once?" Dad asked.

"Yeah," Mom said dryly. "Over your former best friend. And George. Izzie had to come to my rescue. She's tougher than she looks."

"Does anyone care to explain all of this to the kid?" I demanded. "I thought I knew all of the stories!"

"Some of these may still fall under the when you're older category, pigeon," Mom said.

"I am older!" I protested. "You've always told me things!"

"Hannah," Dad said, his voice raised a little. "Leave your mother alone. She's right."

I slumped back in my seat, scowling.

"So go back to Callie and Mark," Derek said. "Did any of your friends not fall victim to his charms?"

"Well, we probably fared better than your friends. And siblings," Mom said.

"Any chance I'm allowed to hear those stories?" I asked, hopefully. Neither of them responded, and I scowled harder as I dug out my music player. Let them play the 'let's talk about things that Hannah can't possibly understand' game. I was perfectly capable of entertaining myself.

Things got somewhat better after lunch. I slid into the middle of the backseat, and Mom and I decided to teach Dad some of the finer aspects of Grey Girls' road trips. Namely, the McDonald's ice cream cone game.

"The last person to finish theirs loses," I explained, licking around the edge of mine to keep it from melting down my hand. "It can go on for ages, if you keep it from melting over."

Dad didn't seem to into it. His cone was gone within two minutes. "I'm driving," he responded to my accusation that he was a killjoy.

"So?" I said. "Mom nearly always beats me, and she's the one who drives."

"Ah, but pigeon, I've had many years to refine the art of cone licking," Mom said wisely, licking a drip. Dad just shook his head.

"Does the winner get anything out of this?" he asked, a few minutes later, when Mom and I were still snatching glances at each others ice creams.

"Not really," Mom said casually.

"Just satisfaction and bragging rights for the duration of the trip," I added. A few minutes later we were both carefully chipping away pieces of the cone bottoms, when Mom finally sighed and stick the last piece of hers into her mouth.

"You win, kiddo," she said.

"Yes!" I cried, finishing mine off. "That's twice in three trips."

"I think that's a record," Mom teased.

"Nope; when I was ten I won six times in a row, you were flabbergasted and spent the entire four day drive back from Seattle perfecting your technique."

"Oh, right. I think I blocked that one out."

Dad looked between us, clearly convinced that we were insane.

"Mom, were you looking to repeat an old attraction on the way home?" I asked, as we crossed into New Jersey. "Because I was thinking, Dad might enjoy the butterfly garden. It's pretty, if over-rated. Then again, there was the trucking museum we decided was way too ridiculous for us not to check out."

"That's a hard choice," Mom said seriously, as Dad said: "Trucking museum?" incredulously. "What about Old Sturbridge?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Nah. Not when we just did Williamsburg two months ago."

"Well, I think your dad's reaction means that we simply have to try the trucking museum. And wear ridiculous hats while we do so."

"Mer? Didn't you used to hate stupid people things like tourist traps?" Dad asked. "And now you're bringing our daughter up to adore them?"

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly Bubba and his second-cousin wife Janet who believe all the crap the places turn out," Mom defended, "We see them as opportunities to study the masses on who I generally operate."

"And to mock them," I added.

"And to mock them," Mom agreed. "Don't knock it until you've tried it, Derek."

Dad just shook his head, but when I glanced at him through the rearview mirror, he was grinning.

Another perk to having a man around, Mom and I quickly found out, was having someone to carry the bags. We raced down the hall of the Hilton (Mom had Honors points out the whazoo), with a bemused Dad taking the place of the bemused bellman who usually tagged after us. Generally this race, with Mom and I both already armed with room keys, was to secure the best bed; or best side of a bed if it were a king, for one's self. When I burst into the door, Mom still slow from having been sick I guess, I saw that it was a king, although I thought Mom had requested two doubles.

"Awesome!" I cried, diving on to the bed. "So, where are you guys going to sleep?" I asked, lying in the center and glancing back at my parents.

"Shit," Mom said, as Dad dropped the bags by the door. "We'll have to go request a room change."

"No we don't," Dad said, his tone placating. "Seeing as Hannah's already claimed the middle, we'll just sleep on either side of her. You're both unusually skinny, it'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Mom said, uncertainly.

Dad walked past her into the room and sat down on the right hand side of the bed. "Perfectly," he replied.

Mom shrugged and came all the way in closing the door behind her. There was silence for a minute, and I looked between them.

"So…. Anyone else hungry?" I asked brightly.

"Sure," Dad said. "Room service?"

"Nope," Mom said, sitting down by me. "You thinking what I'm thinking, pigeon?"

I resisted the urge to say 'Chinese food' and nodded.

"What?" Dad asked. "Something ridiculously unhealthy, like hoagies?"

"Nah," I said, jumping up and off of the bed, then continuing to speak before Mom could chastise me. "Sushi."

Dad's jaw dropped. "Sushi? Aren't there sushi places in Boston?"

"Sure," Mom said. "Hannah, no jumping on the furniture. How old are you?"

"Old enough to know better," I sighed. "But this place is the best, Dad. And it's the best thing ever to order a Philadelphia roll when you're _in Philadelphia_."

"Of course," Dad said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Don't worry," I said, holding the hotel door open for them. "You'll learn to think like us, eventually."

After dinner we went back to the room and I immediately started digging through my suitcase for my bathing suit.

"Does she ever run out of energy?" Dad asked, looking at Mom in disbelief.

"Eventually," Mom said. "About once a week."

"I can hear you, you know," I called out from the bathroom where I was changing. "And I can go to the pool by myself."

"I'll go with you," Dad volunteered. "You up to go sit by the pool, Mer?"

I emerged in my pink and green bikini and slipped one of Mom's Dartmouth t-shirts over my head as a cover up.

Mom shook her head and yawned. "No, I think I'll turn in early. I have to be at the hospital at seven to meet with the family of the little boy who I'll be operating on. You two have fun."

I kissed Mom good night, and Dad stood awkwardly by the bed. I waited for him at the door, and watched as he kissed Mom on the forehead. "Good night, Mer."

She smiled. "'Night Derek."

In the hall I waited a minute, seeing that Dad was thinking, but then said quietly. "Mom hasn't come to the pool with me since I was old enough to swim by myself. She usually checks to see if there's someone else at the pool and then reads in the lobby or far enough away from the pool so that she can't even be called near the water, but can still see me. I mean, I had swimming lessons at the Y, but usually while she was working out. She says she used to be good at it but--."

"But she doesn't like to get in the water," Dad finished. "Is that it?"

I nodded. "I didn't know why for a long time, but then Alex told me what happened. Must have been scary. I mean, when she was sick, I was scared, but I figured she'd be okay. But to almost drown…."

We had reached the elevator, and I pushed the button, wishing for a second that Mom was there so that we could fight over who could push it. Dad just let me.

I watched in the reflective door. Dad swallowed, and he looked at me, thoughtfully, reaching out to run a hand through my dark curls.

"It wasn't easy, that's for sure," he said finally. "It scared us all, everyone who loves your mother, very much." The elevator door chimed, startling us both. We got on and stood in the otherwise empty elevator in silence. Dad didn't say anything else for a long time. We were just passing the second floor when he continued. "In the car, you were complaining about being too young to hear things--."

"I'm sorry--."

"No, listen. I'm only going to tell you this, this once. Your mother's almost drowning, and my reaction to it, that had a lot to do with why we broke up. We both made a lot of mistakes, and unfortunately when we broke up was right before she found out that you were on the way. Only unfortunately in terms of timing, by the way. She'd had do deal with a lot, family-wise, right after that, even after her mother died and I… wasn't as supportive as I should have been. I thought she wasn't letting me in, but all she was doing was what she had done when I had shut her out before; going to her friends. We both made mistakes," he added. That was what Mom always said too.

We'd gotten to the lobby by then, but we didn't move towards the pool yet. "Mom never told me all of that. I think she would have, I mean, I know that you were married when you met her and all of that…. I just didn't know why you broke up. I think it still upsets her a lot."

Dad sighed, sitting on the edge of one of the lobby chairs that were clustered just across from the elevator. "It upsets me too, Hannah; but, your mother has always had a hard time talking about things that upset her. It was one of our problems. Of course, it's not like I was the best at it either." He sighed again, and then we both heard a loud splash coming from the pool. "But what am I doing, digging up the past?" he said, with a grin. He stood up and went towards the door to the indoor pool "Come on; show me how well you swim."

"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm. "Do you… are you here to… Are you and Mom going to try again?"

Dad seemed to study me before answering. "I'd like to, kiddo. But it's not just up to me or you, or even just up to your mom. It's going to take work. But I'm willing to try."

"Okay," I said, equally serious. "That's all I wanted to know. Race you to the pool!" I darted off and had dived in before Dad got to the side. He smiled at me as I came up for air, and I knew that he knew I understood. There was just no point in dwelling on it, really.

When Dad and I went back upstairs over an hour later Mom was sound asleep in the middle of the bed, snoring. I looked at her and smiled slightly. "She won't admit that she still doesn't feel well," I said, pulling my pajamas on. "Are you going to move her, or what?"

"Nah," Dad said. "She's out. I won't risk waking her."

"Your call," I said. "You may want a pair of these," I added, holding up the box of earplugs I kept in my backpack.

Dad smirked. "Way ahead of you," he said, indicating the pack on the bedside table. "Remember kiddo, I was er…. Sleeping in the same room as your mom long before you."

I smirked. "Well, I did assume I wasn't an immaculate conception."

Dad threw a pillow at me, and I caught it, before going to brush my teeth.

When I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, Dad's arms were around Mom's waist and she had her hands tangled up in his, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

A/N Do the reviewing thing!


	11. My Mother is Mine

Chapter Ten

"So what do you usually do when your Mom is working?" Dad asked the next morning when we were having breakfast in the hotel lobby, amid businessmen and the occasional family with young children who all seemed to be in town to visit grandparents.

I shrugged and bit into a blueberry muffin that did not taste nearly as good as the ones Aunt Izzie made. "My schoolwork. A lot of times I go with her and hang out in a conference room or cafeteria until the surgery, and then Mom lets me sit in the balcony if I'm quiet."

Dad swallowed a bite of bagel and asked, "They let you do that?"

"Dad, Mom comes to them. She's one of the top surgeons on the east coast, if not in the country. They'd let her do just about anything."

"Yeah, I guess so," Dad said. "I've read several journal articles she's written; I just never realized….. Well, anyway, how about we hold off on the work for a little while? We can go see the sights."

"Mom and I usually do that in the evenings, or on an extra day," I said slowly. "But… we've been to most of them a few times so… why not? But you're the one who told me not to do my work, remember that."

"Duly noted," Dad agreed.

We set off to see the Liberty Bell, and Dad told me that the first time he'd seen it had been without all the glass and security that there was now. I was kind of amazed by that, there had always been maximum security around that kind of stuff.

We went to the constitution center next, and I amused Dad by giving him his own personal commentary, which had more offhand details than the ones provided by the Center because of all the things I'd researched in my lessons for Mom.

"You know what, pigeon?" Dad said after we left the Constitution Center. We were walking down the sidewalk eating pretzels that I had convinced him to buy, since it wouldn't be Philly without them.

I stopped in my tracks and Dad turned to look back at me.

"That's Mom's name for me," I said quietly. .

Dad shrugged. "Oh. So it is. Do you not want me using it?"

I thought about it for a second and shrugged slowly. "I don't know…. it's just weird. But what were you going to say?"

"Oh. I was just thinking, you know, I was never really sure about your Mom's decision to home school you."

"No kidding," I said dryly. It was one of the things they often talked about, heatedly, when they didn't know what to say to each other when Mom was dropping me off, picking me up or passing on the phone.

"Hannah!"

"Sorry… but I did know that."

"Well then, please let me finish. I wasn't sure about it, but I'm starting to see that she did a pretty damn good job, if you'll excuse my language."

I smiled. "Only if you'll excuse mine."

Dad laughed and put his arm around me. "Not until you're eighteen. Your Mom may put up with you swearing, but I'm not a fan."

I sighed. "Whatever. But thanks, for saying you're okay with my being home-schooled and all."

"You're welcome."

"You know, maybe you should tell Mom that too," I said cautiously. "She'd like to hear it."

"Oh you think so? Well then I guess I will. Do you know why I wasn't sure about it at first?"

We had sat down on a bench by then, and I watched a family walk by, a little boy on his father's shoulder looking excitedly at a map of the historical sights. I remembered the first time Mom and I came to Philly when I was five. We'd seen all the important tourist sights, and Mom had bought me a toy fife, one of those that only really puts out an ear shirking whistle. She'd put up with me blowing into at intervals the entire ride home.

Of course, it disappeared after we got home, but still, I so often heard parents refusing to buy their kids those things when we were in Philadelphia.

I quickly jerked my mind back to Dad's question. "I guess…. I don't know. Maybe you thought Mom was just trying to compensate or something? Cristina said that once. Because my grandmother was never home?"

Dad nodded. "Something like that. Ellis Grey loved her daughter, Hannah, but she had a very hard time understanding Mer for who she was."

"Mom and I don't have that problem," I assured him. "She may not always get me, but I know she loves me."

"I know you don't have that problem. I was just never sure if that was Mer's only motivation for keeping you at home, so that you guys would never have the strained relationship that she and her mother did. I wasn't sure that she'd thought the rest of it through, but the way she's managed to organize your work, and keep you with her. I have to say, you've gotten a very well-balanced education."

"Well," I said. "There's a little bit lacking in sciences not related to anatomy, but Mom says I can catch that up next year. I knew the proper names for most bones when I was eight, though. And I think my literature exposure is a little bit biased in the British and American direction, but I'm pretty good on history."

'And math?" Dad asked.

I wrinkled my nose. "Mom and I differ on our opinions of the importance of math," I admitted.

"You know, I haven't asked you in a while, any idea what you want to be when you grow up?"

I shrugged. "Probably not a doctor. I mean, I like hanging out in the hospital, but when Mom was in there… it just wasn't as cool as I thought it was, and I've never really thought about being a surgeon. I'd kind of like to do something with animals. Maybe, like, marine biology?"

"Sounds good," Dad agreed.

"That's not all of it, is it? You were worried that Mom wanted me to be a clone of her. like my grandmother, except in a different way, weren't you? Mom says that when she wanted to be a doctor she had to spend ages convincing herself that it wasn't just because her mother was one. No offense Daddy, but that's ridiculous."

Dad laughed. "I realize that now. Come on; let's go check out that bookstore over there. Looks like fun."

Mom got back to the hotel at around five. The little boy that she was going to be operating on was scheduled for surgery the next morning. She'd met with his family before, it turned out, the past few times we'd come out to Philadelphia, but they'd been trying to make sure that the surgery was what he needed for his epilepsy. In the end, it had gotten worse, to the point where the operation was their only option.

"It's kind of a shame, really," Mom said, lying on the bed next to where I was sitting leafing through one of the books on orcas Dad had bought me. "I was hoping that he'd respond to the medicine his neurologist had put him on."

"Do you want to get dinner?" Dad said abruptly. "Steak and big chunks of carbs in a basket? We never actually did that."

"I'm in!" I said, closing the book and grinning.

Dad turned to me, and ran a hand through his hair. "Actually, Hannah-Banana, I was thinking just your mom and I would go. That okay with you, Mer?"

Mom had sat up and slipped her shoes on. She glanced between us and bit her lip. "Okay, pigeon?" she asked. "You've done the sight-seeing thing, and you do have schoolwork to do. We can show your dad some of our more out-of-the-way haunts tomorrow, if the surgery goes as scheduled," she added, brightly.

"It's settled then," Dad said, without waiting for me to answer. "Order room service, Hannah, if you want."

I stared at them, in utter disbelief, too shocked to even point out that it was Dad's fault my work wasn't done. This was not how things worked. But then I saw the look Mom was giving Dad. There was hope there. I sighed. "Sure. Whatever. Have fun."

"Oh, don't be like that, Hannah," Mom said, kissing my cheek. "We'll have plenty of other opportunities to wreck havoc upon Philadelphia."

"I said it was fine. Go. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." _But go ahead, talk about all the things that can't possibly be said in front of the kid._

"Will do," Dad said, with a chipper grin. "Love you, kid," he kissed the top of my head and opened the door for Mom. "I won't keep her out too late."

I didn't respond, just started digging in my bag for my science book.

I actually did most of the work Mom had given me to be done before we got back to Boston, just because I hoped that I wouldn't have too many other chances to do it while we were there. Then I went downstairs and did a few laps in the pool. There was a really cute guy sitting by the edge of the pool, and I decided to take a chance and swim over to talk to him.

"Hi," I said, brightly, "Come here often?"

"Sorry," he said, in a heavy accent but with a smile. "No English."

I wouldn't have believed him, except that a few moments later a woman who must have been his mother called to him in what I think must have been Italian and he ran off.

I sighed and returned to swimming. Language was the one thing in which I didn't excel. Cristina often attempted to teach me French, but all that had led to was a memorable story in which while visiting Cristina when I was six I had yelled: 'oh suckers!" instead of 'au secours' when I got stuck in a tree, and she and Mom had thought they were being insulted until they got me out of the tree and calmed me down enough to explain.

I did a few more laps and then got out. It was past nine, but my parents weren't back yet. i showered to wash the chlorine out of my hair and got ready for bed, turning the TV on for background noise and opened the book Dad had bought me again. I had told Mom a couple of times my ideas about working with marine animals. We'd been to a bunch of different aquariums in different places, but Mom usually got bored with them pretty quickly. I thought they were absolutely fascinating, and she'd agreed that it did sound like an interesting profession, although I did know that she got tired of my rants about how horribly orcas had been, and still sometimes were treated by humans. Dad had never heard my rant, though, and it I had told him all about it when we had come home from sight-seeing.

I had planned on staying awake until my parents got back, to interrogate them and perhaps make them realize all the fun they missed by leaving me behind. I was, after all, the life of the party, and could at least relieve the awkward moments that they kept having. Despite all of this, I fell asleep around eleven and only woke up at the sound of a keycard in the door. I didn't open my eyes, just listened to them coming into the room.

"Hannah's presence does hinder our usual end of date traditions." Dad's voice came first, laughing.

"Shh…," Mom said, and I heard the door close.

"Relax, Mer, she's sound asleep. Maybe she does run out of energy after all."

"Yeah, apparently before she can remember to hang her bathing suit up like I tell her to every time." _Oops._

"So, we were doing a good job not talking about Hannah."

I closed my eyes more tightly to keep from squirming, or giving myself away by protesting that I was, of course, the best thing to talk about.

"Yeah we were," Mom said softly, and I felt her sitting on the edge of the bed. "We've done a lot of the talking thing tonight."

"More than we've done in years," Dad pointed out.

"More than we ever did, really."

"Maybe not that much. We didn't always have a complete inability to communicate, Mer. There was a time when we just didn't need words. But then…. I think after…. Addison…. We lost that, and didn't realize it."

"Maybe so," Mom agreed. "I…. I missed you, Derek. All those years…. Raising Hannah by myself…. I know, the Hannah thing…. But…. When she'd do something cute, or something that was so obviously your genes working I'd wish you were there to see it. When she did something that came so obviously from me, I'd wish you were there to make fun of it," Mom laughed, but it sounded sad.

"You've done a wonderful job, Mer. I'm sorry I wasn't there more… There was more I could have done."

"Don't. Not now. I--." Mom broke off suddenly, and there were no words for so long that I chanced to open my eyes. I immediately closed them again, but reopened them a second later.

They were kissing.

My parents were kissing.

I wasn't sure what to make of that at all. It was what I wanted, obviously, them to reconcile, but at the same time…. They were adults. They were my parents. And they were kissing.

Rather than have to watch them, like, make out, I rolled over, still feigning sleep. My movement didn't disturb them, but I started to drift back asleep when I heard them start whispering again. Some time later I felt them get into bed on either side of me.

Mom put her arm around me, as she usually did, except that I could feel Dad's arm close too, and I thought they were holding hands. As weird as it had been to see them kiss, I felt safe with both of them next to me. I felt protected. I liked it, a lot.

But still…. My parents were kissing!

A/N Review!


	12. Every Other Time

Chapter Eleven

The next day went by fairly quickly, even though Mom was gone from five in the morning to ten at night. I wished I could have gone with her to the hospital, really. Dad was fun, but he did not know or understand most of Mom's and my traditions. I was up and dressed before him, having not really gone back to sleep when Mom kissed me good-bye. When he woke up it seemed to take him forever to be ready to do anything.

"Are you sure you're a surgeon?" I asked; when he came out of the bathroom, finally, dressed.

"I'm pretty sure," he replied, putting his shoes on. "I mean, I go to a hospital every day and operate on people, so I'm going to say yes. I'm a surgeon. Why?"

"Because, every other surgeon I know can be up and ready to go in like, two seconds."

"Oh. I can be. But I'm not working so it doesn't really matter."

"Sure it does. Just because you're not working doesn't mean there's nothing to do with the day."

Dad stared at me. "Are you sure that you're your mother's child?"

"Um… you tell me," I said. "Think about it. Let's get breakfast."

"All right," he conceded as we went down the hall, "But I happen to remember a time when your mother's whole life was work. She never knew what to do on her days off."

"Ah yes," I said wisely. "But that was in the era before Hannah. What do you want to do today?"

"Well there are some museums we can go see or--."

I cut him off. "Because I was thinking we could go shopping in Intercourse, Mom left the car right?"

"Yes she did—go shopping in _where_?" We were at the breakfast buffet, and Dad had paused with the tongs poised over a muffin that he wanted.

I laughed. "Intercourse, Pennsylvania. It's a town with some great little shops. Bores Mom to death, but I really like it. We don't have to buy anything, but it's fun to look."

"You guys aren't that big on souvenirs, are you?" Dad asked, as we sat down at a table.

I shrugged. "Not really. Mom says there's no real point to anything that's particularly without function. I mean, my grandmother's house is full of stuff that nobody ever used. The only things without dust in her attic are her surgical videos. And besides, our apartment is pretty small."

Dad nodded in agreement, but I could tell he was thinking about something that really did not have much to do with Mom's and my nonexistent souvenir buying habits.

We did have fun shopping, I was able to tell Dad some things about the Amish culture that he hadn't known, apart from the fact that the boys hit on Mom.

"I entered a paper on the Amish in the history fair," I explained. "They encourage homeschoolers to enter. I didn't win anything, but it was fun. Got a bunch of books from up here and didn't have to spend that much time in the library."

"That's cool. So tell me, by the way, Hannah, while you were awake last night, what'd you see?"

I stopped on the sidewalk where I'd been making a beeline for a shop that sold handmade quilts and turned back to Dad, sheepishly. "I don't know what you're talking about?" I tried, but Dad just raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay, fine. I heard you guys come in…. and maybe I saw you kiss, but that was it! I fell asleep…. But it was nice… I mean with both of you…. Anyway, you kissed! That's progress, right?"

Dad laughed. "It is," he agreed. "Does the playing opossum usually work well for you?"

"Not really," I admitted. "I'm not very good at it. I figured you were both too distracted. What with the kissing and all."

"You're pretty hung up on the kissing, aren't you?" Dad asked. "Me, I'm all for the kissing. And yes, I think it might just be progress."

"Cool." I linked my arm through Dad's, and we continued down the street.

We were polishing off dessert ordered from Room Service that night when Mom finally came into the hotel room. She opened the door, dropped her purse on the floor and stole my spoon from my hand without saying a word. It was only after she'd swallowed the bite of brownie sundae that she kissed my forehead and said, "Have a good day, kiddo?"

"Yeah. How'd the surgery go?"

"It went fine. Kid sailed through. The anesthesiologist was an ass, but what can you do?"

"Wait, haven't you worked with that one before? Was it the one with the huge mole--?"

"Right under his eye? Yeah, that one."

I wrinkled my nose. "He's the one that called me Princess and kept staring at my boobs, right? When I was, like, twelve? Yeah, he is an ass."

"Hannah!" Dad broke in. Mom and I both turned to him, having forgotten he was there.

"Honestly, Derek, give her a break. The man's an ass," Mom said, with a smile.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Dad asked Mom, with incredulity in his voice.

Mom shrugged. "It would bother me if she were standing on the hotel balcony yelling expletives at people on the street, but in here talking about an anesthesiologist with pedophilic tendencies? Not a bit."

"Oh damn," I said, resting my head on Mom's shoulder, "And here I was about to go stand on the balcony and cuss out taxi drivers."

"Mmm, read your mind did I? Get off for a sec, pigeon, I'm getting into my pajamas before I fall asleep right here," Mom said, standing up. "Someone kept me out late on the night before a ten hour surgery."

"Wish I knew who it was," Dad teased, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her waist. "I'd set Hannah and her swearing skills on him."

Mom wormed her way out of his grasp, and looked pointedly at me.

"It's okay," Dad said. "Hannah wasn't asleep."

Mom snorted. "I figured that out the second we came in the room last night, Derek. Hannah snores, after all."

"I do not!" I protested. "That's all you!"

"Oh no," Mom said, slipping her shirt off and then walking into the bathroom. "I can't hear myself snore. Ask your dad."

"Now that is true," Dad agreed. As he said this his cell phone rang. He walked over to pick it up off of the bedside table, and I went to lean on the doorway of the bathroom. "So," I said to Mom, raising an eyebrow.

"So what?" she asked, before putting her toothbrush in her mouth.

"So… I was awake last night. I saw you kiss him."

Mom paused in her tooth brushing and rolled her eyes at me. She spat and then turned. "Pigeon, that doesn't mean we're planning a wedding. Kissing happens. Especially with your father and I…."

I rolled my eyes at Mom's noncommittal statement and went back into the room with Dad. He was sitting on the balcony on his phone. Annoyed with both of them, I took the tray and put it outside the door, then threw on my own pajamas and crawled into the center of the bed. If they weren't 'planning a wedding', they didn't need to sleep next to each other.

Mom came back in and settled down next to me. "Who's he talking to?"

"No idea. I stole it from him when we went out to keep him from being on it constantly," I said, propping up on an elbow. "You've stopped coughing, by the way." She'd gotten to where it was so normal for her to be coughing that she didn't realize it was getting better.

"Good to know," Mom said. "So, speaking of kissing; hear from Alfie lately?"

"And on that note," I said. "I'm going to sleep."

"Oh what?" Mom asked, leaning over to look at me after I'd rolled over. "If you can't take the prying, then don't pry yourself…. Or whatever."

I snorted. "It's 'if you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen', actually."

"I like mine better."

"You're just jealous that I can actually remember idioms."

"Oh yeah, totally on my list of things to be jealous of."

"Of which."

"Go to sleep, smart aleck."

I smiled and rolled back over. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, my little pigeon."

Mom was snoring, and I was almost asleep by the time I felt Dad get into the bed. I wondered who he'd been talking too, but I was asleep before I could ask him.

The next day we started the drive home. We left the hotel after breakfast, with Mom driving. "What'll it be, kid?" she asked, looking in the rearview mirror.

I was about to rhapsodize about the merits of the trucking museum to annoy Dad, before deciding on the butterfly garden, but Dad spoke before I could open my mouth.

"Actually, girls," he said, putting a hand behind his head. "I may have to go back to Seattle tomorrow so…. Maybe it'd be best if we could get back early today?"

"Oh," Mom said, obviously surprised. "Okay, sure."

"Okay, kiddo?" Dad asked me.

I shrugged. "I guess, if we have to."

We drove in near silence for a long time. I watched my parents closely. Every once in a while Dad's hand would twitch and it looked as if he was going to take Mom's, but he kept losing his nerve. Mom kept looking at him quickly, and then turning her eyes back to the road. If I hadn't been such a considerate daughter I would have told her that she was going to cause an accident. As it was, I spent most of the ride reading, and mourning the loss of time spent with both of them.

We stopped to eat at a Cracker Barrel, and things got better over lunch. We spent a long time in the giftshop playing around with the stuffed animals and knickknacks that even Aunt Izzie would think were way too cutesy. We came out with me sucking on a peppermint stick and my parents walking behind me holding hands.

I saw an old lady who was sitting on a rocking chair out front smiling at us, and heard her say to her husband: "What a nice family." I smiled. That was us, a nice family

At home, Dad insisted on cooking again. When Mom and I complained that this would take too long, he reminded us that we had just had ice cream cones. I grinned, this time he had played hard at our cone game, but Mom still reigned champion.

"Hey Hannah, come over here and chop stuff for me."

I sighed, and got up off of the couch. "Aren't I too young for that or something?" Dad just laughed. "Why don't you make Mom chop stuff?"

"I'm not that dumb," Dad said.

"Hey! I can make grilled cheese!" Mom reminded us from her room where she was unpacking.

"Sometimes," I muttered. "It burns half the time."

"Hey, Hannah?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Try being nice for a while, it might make a nice change."

I turned to him, highly offended, but he was leaning against the counter and grinning. "You love me," I reminded him, sweetly.

"Do I now?" he said, teasingly.

"Why else are you hanging around here?"

Dad grinned at Mom, who had come into the kitchen. "I can think of a few reasons," he said. Mom didn't say anything, just smiled tightly.

I glanced at her for a minute after Dad turned back to his cooking. In the five minutes since I'd last seen her she seemed to have gotten more subdued. She had the look on her face that she got when she was humoring Dr. Weasel. I wanted to pull her aside and tell her to stop it, that things were okay, but I didn't get a chance to before we sat down for dinner.

We'd barely had a chance to start eating the baked chicken before Dad dropped the bombshell. "I was thinking," he said with a smile. "That some time, in the future, not within the next days or even months, but some time, you two might think about coming back to Seattle with me. For good."

We both stared at him, although I was pretty sure that my look was not one of abject horror as Mom's seemed to be. "That could be cool," I said amicably, not wanting to start some kind of massive blow up.

Too late.

"Seriously?" Mom said, putting her fork down.

"Mer, don't freak out, please."

"Oh, I'm not freaking out. I'm just wondering where you get the thought that from two weeks you can figure that anyone here is ready to think about that kind of…step."

"I don't see it as a step, exactly," Dad said. "I see it as fixing a mistake that happened a long time ago."

"See, that's the thing," Mom said slowly. "You still think my coming out here was a mistake. But Derek, we've been happy. Plus, it's been fifteen years. We're different people now."

I looked back and forth between them, my stomach sinking, and after a few more seconds I realized that I really did not want to listen to them hash it out. I stood up and went to my room, slamming the door. I didn't think they even noticed that I'd left.

A/N Thanks for all of the lovely reviews on the last chapter!!!! Keep it up, okay?


	13. Feel the Silence

Chapter Twelve

It was raining the next morning, which absolutely suited my mood. Actually, it would have suited it better if there had been thunder, lightening and power outages. I woke up just after seven, and quickly ran out of my room, hoping that Dad hadn't left yet.

When I skidded into the living room, he was still there, sitting on the couch, a packed suitcase next to him. "You're still here," I said, sitting down next to him with a smile.

"Yeah, but I have to get going. My flight leaves in an hour." He put his arm around me, and I looked up at him, tears suddenly filled my eyes.

"So is that it Dad? Because you and Mom fought last night that means there's no hope?"

"I wouldn't go that far, sweetheart. I wish I could stay. If I could, I'm sure we'd get things figured out, but Chief Bailey's been on my ass for a week now, and she said last night that her second best neurosurgeon just came down with shingles, so if I don't get there soon she'll expose me."

I laughed through my tears.

"Where's Mom?" I asked, realizing that her door had been open and her purse was gone off of the counter.

"She had to go to the hospital early," Dad explained. "She said to tell you to take the bus up there if you want, but you don't have to."

I nodded, but I'd stopped listening. "Don't go Daddy. Just stay. Stay and talk it out with Mom again and then--."

Dad was shaking his head. "It's up to your mom now, kiddo.. Ball's in her court."

I sighed, wondering if he knew how disastrous that could be. Mom wasn't always one on taking the ball and going with it.

"You'll miss your flight," I murmured, standing up.

Dad nodded and stood up. I walked with him out of our apartment and to the outside. His car was parked on the street outside, and he dashed out to load his suitcase in the trunk before saying goodbye to me. He came back up the stairs and gathered me in his arms. I hugged him tightly. I started to cry, but hoped that Dad would just think it was the rain.

"I love you, Hannah."

"I love you too, Daddy."

A few moments later, and then he was gone and I was going back into our building and then our apartment. It felt emptier than ever. I sat back on the sofa, even though I was wet, and stared at the blank TV. I sat there for a while, then tried to pick up a book and read, but I couldn't focus on that for any length of time.

Eventually I settled on putting in a DVD of episodes of an old TV show and just staring blankly at that until Mom came home for lunch.

"Well," she said, feigning brightness as she put her keys down on the counter. "It's nice to have the place back to ourselves, isn't it?"

I turned from the couch and glared at her. "So you're just going to pretend that Dad was never here?" I asked bitterly.

The smile disappeared off Mom's face and she didn't respond, just turned to the refrigerator. "Sandwiches?" she asked.

"Whatever," I responded.

We ate lunch in silence, and then Mom coolly asked me if I wanted to go back to the hospital with her or stay home. When I didn't answer she slammed her keys down angrily. I turned to look at her and could see hurt in her face. For once, though, I wasn't sorry that it was there. Good. Let her be hurt and angry, because I was too.

"You can be angry at me, Hannah, but I'm telling you, we dodged a bullet. Do you really want to leave our lives behind here on the off chance that the third time would be the charm for your dad and me?"

"Leave what behind?" I demanded. "What do we have here that we couldn't have in Seattle? Plus, there you'd have most of your friends and--."

"I'm going back to work," Mom interrupted. "I shouldn't be too late tonight."

I gave a sound of acknowledgement. When she'd left I retreated to my room, hoping that Alfie would be being an insomniac, and be online. Unfortunately, it was two AM in Sydney and he wasn't on, neither were any of my other friends. I settled on blasting my stereo and doing schoolwork, since I had nothing better to do.

It's a strange thing to fight with your best friend when that also happens to be your teacher and your mother. I wasn't speaking to her, in general, but there were moments when it couldn't be helped. She'd be explaining a math concept to me, and I'd have to ask a question. We were out of orange juice and she was about to go to the store. But those little things were the only thing we talked about.

On mornings that I wanted to go to the hospital with her I'd get up when I heard her moving, get dressed and be waiting in the living room. She'd give me the money to buy us both coffee when we got there, and then I'd disappear into the conference room to do my work. She'd check on me periodically, bring in lunch and explaining derivatives or the nervous system, and then she'd leave. I didn't ask to sit in the balcony during any of her procedures, she didn't linger describing the stupid things Dr. Weasel had said or anything else that was normal between us.

When I didn't go, she'd leave my binder with my work in it, new assignments written out on a post-it on the top and essays graded. Her comments on my essays were the same as always, sarcastic at things that could be better and praiseful otherwise. I read them over several times, because in them was the way that Mom and I usually were. I wanted that back, but I didn't want to apologize.

That was the problem when Mom and I argued. Usually we'd fight with me storming off to my room. In an hour or so, I'd emerge and we'd move on as if nothing had happened. If it were an argument over a big thing, Mom would come into my room maybe ten minutes later and we'd talk about it, nervously evading the subject until I'd just blurt out how I felt. She'd soothe me and we'd come up with a solution. Usually, though, it was the 'ignore the problem and it will go away' approach. If I said something that I knew hurt her feelings, usually I'd sheepishly apologize and we'd again move on as if nothing happened.

This, though, was too big for any of that. I wasn't going to apologize, and we couldn't seem to make it seem as if nothing had happened.

One evening, nearly a week after Dad left, Mom appeared in my bedroom door. I had my computer on my lap, and I looked up at her, expecting a one sentence suggestion about what to do for dinner. She was leaning on the doorway, and I could tell that she'd been watching me, sadly, for a minute before I looked up.

When she noticed my gaze, though, she stood up straight and spoke just above my head. "I've been called over to Hartford for the day tomorrow. I'm not operating, so it should only be a day trip. Want to go?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

"Okay. Pick out an audiobook," she instructed, as she walked off I heard her mutter, "Because it'll probably be a very quiet ride."

She was right. When, usually, we were constantly stopping the book to talk and usually didn't even get halfway through the amount of time we should have on it, this time the sound of the narrator was the only thing to be heard in the car. I reclaimed my place in the front seat, staring out the window, feeling the awkwardness of it all covering us like a very hot, suffocating blanket.

Incidentally, when eating an ice cream cone is the only thing you have to do it is very hard to make it last.

There were no empty conference rooms in the hospital where we were, so I ended up sitting with my English book, The Picture of Dorian Gray, in a waiting room. It seemed to be mostly families whose young children were having PE tubes put in, because the same doctor came out every forty-five minutes and delivered the same spiel. In the end, I could almost recite it with him, complete with hand-gestures illustrating the proper use of ear plugs for swimming.

I wanted to share this with Mom, but by the time she'd come to the waiting room to collect me I couldn't bring myself to attempt to break the silence with that story and once again pretend that something big had never happened.

"Want to drive home?" Mom asked casually.

I stared at her in disbelief, for a second, and then shrugged. "Sure. Whatever." Mom deflated a little, and I knew she'd been trying to move on with things. I felt bad for a second that I wasn't going to let her, but not enough to soften. She'd completely ruined things, when we had a chance of being happy with Dad.

At least the car wasn't as silent when we drove back to Boston, since Mom was giving me driving instructions. Still, on the long stretches of interstate there was only the sound of a book narrator, who obviously could not know how much their reading added to the strain of the ride.

Mom was off that Saturday, but all we did was order pizza. I put on DVDs and for the most part she'd sit around and watch them too, but we both kept our usual sarcastic commentaries to ourselves. At around five, Mom stood up.

"Any ideas for dinner?"

"Food," I replied, shortly.

She glared down at me. I was lying stretched out on the couch with my laptop on my knees. "You know, I'm starting to realize how my mother felt living with an obnoxious teenager. I sympathize with her more and more every day."

Before I could respond to that, the door buzzer sounded. Mom went over to see who it was, and when Aunt Izzie's cheerful voice came into the apartment we both stared at the speaker in shock.

"Hi guys! We decided just to show up and hope you were home, give you less of a chance to flee!"

"Um… okay, come up," Mom replied, then she whirled on me. "Hannah Marie, if you say one word to her about your father--."

"You'll what, ground me?"

"No, I'll lock you in a conference room with Dr. Weasel, and that's a promise."

"Whatever."

Mom didn't have time to come up with further threats before there was a knock on the door, so she settled with fixing me with a death glare and then opening it, the fakest of smiles on her face.

"Izzie, Michael, how are you?" she said, as Aunt Izzie came in, laden with groceries. Her boyfriend, Michael followed. He was tall with shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes and a nice smile. He didn't say much, usually just letting Aunt Izzie take the lead on basically everything.

"Well, I'm glad that you were home. I know it was taking a chance, but I figured you guys would just go out of your way if I called ahead. So I brought stuff for dinner since you never have anything."

"Actually," I commented. "We're better stocked than usual."

"Wow, you guys actually decided to grocery shop!" Izzie exclaimed, opening a cabinet.

"Something like that," I began. Mom glanced at me, to silence me.

"Huh. Hannah are you eating Museli now? More and more like your father."

I didn't say anything, and Mom gave Izzie a tight smile. "Anything I can do, Izz?" she offered.

"You can stay there."

I snickered, perhaps more meanly than I would have normally, but no one but Mom seemed to notice. Michael had flipped the TV to the news channel, which was playing some football game. For a while the only sound was that, along with Aunt Izzie's clattering in the kitchen.

As we sat down, Mom said, "Izzie, I know it's been a long time since you gave it to us, but I'd like to thank you again for the afghan. It came in handy recently."

Aunt Izzie smiled. "You're welcome! I'm glad you still like it."

We started to eat, and for a while, Aunt Izzie chattered about the people she and Mom knew at the hospital, and about other things, but eventually even she ran out of things to say. When she did there was only the sound of our forks scraping plates.

"All right!" Aunt Izzie finally burst out. "What is going on? I've never heard the two of you so silent!"

"Isn't that a paradox?" I asked. "Hearing silence, I mean."

Both Aunt Izzie and Mom glared at me.

"Believe it or not, I do have an idea of what's happening. You'd have to be really stupid not to put together the fact that Derek Shepard disappeared from Seattle Grace for two weeks and that you two are acting oddly. Plus, Hannah and Museli? So not happening."

Mom opened her mouth, I'm sure to give some explanation other than the truth, but I didn't let her.

"Yeah, Dad was here," I burst out. "Dad was home, and things were going really well. Like, they'd finally realized how stupid they've both been. But then Dad mentioned us moving to Seattle one day and Mom lost it, because she's afraid of change or commitment or something and has to ruin it for everyone before she even tries to make things work!" I didn't look at Mom through any of this.

There was silence for a minute, and then I heard Mom's fork drop and her chair scrap as she ran from the table. Aunt Izzie looked at me concernedly for a minute, but then went after Mom, leaving me sitting there with Michael who was shoving peas into his mouth as if nothing had happened.

A/N I love you guys and all your reviews. Keep doing it please???


	14. Future Soon

Chapter Thirteen

After a few minutes of sitting awkwardly at the table with Michael, staring at my casserole, I stood up to follow Mom and Aunt Izzie. I stood in the hall for a minute, listening to Aunt Izzie's soothing voice, and I could hear Mom sniffing like she'd just stopped crying a second before. I lingered just out of sight of her doorway for a minute, my hands feeling clammy. I didn't want to do the fighting thing any more, but at the same time I realized that I'd just hurt Mom a lot, and it was possible that she'd be the one not speaking to me now.

After another full minute or so, I bit the bullet and went to stand just inside the doorway. Mom and Aunt Izzie were sitting on the floor, leaning against Mom's bed. Aunt Izzie's arm was around Mom, and Mom had her head on the other woman's shoulder. It was another minute before either of them noticed me.

Aunt Izzie looked up first, and after a moment Mom followed suit. Our eyes met, and we stared at each other for a second. Mom's look was cool and appraising at first, but it quickly softened.

"Come here, pigeon," she said quietly.

Slowly I walked over and sat down by them, facing Mom but a couple of feet away. I felt like it couldn't be this easy.

The three of us were quiet for a minute. I crossed my legs and stared at my hands, which we resting in my lap for a long moment before I finally managed to look up and say, "Mom, I'm so sorry. I've been awful."

"I'd lie and say you haven't," Mom said dryly, "But that would be a lie."

I looked down again, abashedly, tears coming to my eyes.

"Look at me, please, Hannah." Her voice was softer. I looked up. Mom slid closer to me and took my hands in hers. "Sweetheart, I know what happened last week with your dad and me upset you, and we both probably could have handled it in a way that would have been easier for you…. No, easier for all of us."

Mom paused, and looked over my shoulder for a second, seeming to be gathering her thoughts. When she turned back to me she met my eyes and held my gaze, hard. "What you said at dinner just now--."

"Mom, I—"

"Let Mommy talk, kid. What you said…. It wasn't wrong. But Hannah, I left Seattle nearly sixteen and a half years ago now for a lot of reasons. A lot of them had to do with keeping you far, far away from the insanely complicated relationship your dad and I had. It was…" she looked back at Aunt Izzie trying to find an adjective.

Aunt Izzie thought for a moment. "Constant turmoil," she finally said. "That's what I think of. And mood swings. Your relationship was a rollercoaster--." She paused, then said softly, "But you loved each other more than any of that."

Mom pretended to ignore that part, but I saw her shoulders hunch. "The point is, sweetheart, we didn't know how to make it work, and I didn't want us to be working at figuring it out and breaking up every other Sunday and Thursday while we were trying to figure out how to raise a kid too. My parents hated each other so much that I never saw my dad from the time I was five until I was twenty-eight. I didn't want that for you. I also didn't want to become a woman so hardened by love that she couldn't raise her daughter right." Mom spoke bitterly, and I got the impression that that was something she'd wanted to say for a long time.

"When your dad came back, well, I thought maybe. But then when he suggested… I mean, think about it pigeon; if we pack up and move to Seattle and then he and I… fall apart again…. We will have moved for no reason and--."

"Mom stop. We don't have to move to Seattle tomorrow. But so what if we did? What do we have here? I mean, I like Boston, but really? When I go to college, what will keep you here? What will keep you from roaming all over the country for no reason with no one to keep you company? Even if Dad didn't…. if you guys didn't work…. In Seattle you'd have people. Here you have Dr. Weasel and Warrington."

Mom blanched. "Yeah…," she murmured looking away from me for a second.

"And Mom?" I said softly. "When Dad was here? You were happy in a way that just having me around to entertain you can't make you. I mean, I know I'm all anyone needs, but seriously? You glow around him, Mom."

From behind both of us, Aunt Izzie laughed a little. "I remember that," she said. "When you and Derek were happy, Mer."

"But it was a long time ago!" Mom protested. "And, in case you've both forgotten, it didn't work out too well."

"You're… more mature now," Izzie pointed out. "Both of you. You've had to learn how to communicate. Different things matter to you. That could be enough, Mer. I think you're less damaged too. Hannah saw to that."

Mom nodded slowly. "It's probably too late anyway," she murmured. "Derek's back in Seattle."

I bit my lip. "Mom? Do you still have vacation time?"

Mom stared at me in shock. "What are you suggesting, kid?"

I met Izzie's eyes behind me, "She's slow sometimes, isn't she?"

Mom looked between us, "Watch it, you," she said to me. "You're not all clear yet."

"Yeah, uh huh. Listen, Mom, sixteen and a half years ago, Dad didn't come after you. Now, we have a good life here, but don't you ever wonder what would have happened if he had? Well, maybe it's our turn. Maybe we need to go after him."

Mom closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. "You've inherited his love for dramatic gestures," she said with a sigh.

"Come on, what do we have to lose?" I said.

"Maybe my dignity?" Mom suggested with a sigh, but I saw something in the corner of her eye that looked a little bit like hope.

"Michael and I are going back in two days," Aunt Izzie said, quietly. "Take your summer vacation early, Mer. Come with us."

Mom looked at me, and then at the floor. Slowly I saw her demeanor change, a faint smile flickering across her lips, and I knew I'd won. "Okay," she finally whispered. "Okay. But only because I'll never hear the end of it if I don't."

I grinned, wide, and Aunt Izzie gave me the thumbs up from behind Mom's back.

Mom's smile lingered for a couple more seconds, but then she turned serious again. "I make no promises, pigeon," she told me. "I don't know what will happen between your father and me."

"Really? I totally thought you were psychic."

Mom raised an eyebrow, and my smile faltered. Maybe she wasn't as over our fight as I thought. A second later she was smiling again and shaking her head.

Aunt Izzie had stood up. "I'm going to go make sure Michael's still here," she said. It was an obvious excuse to leave us alone. She closed the door behind her. Mom slid back against the bed, and I laid my head on her lap. She absent mindedly ran her fingers along my hairline.

"Things'll change, kiddo," she told me.

"I know," I replied. "But maybe not like you think."

"Maybe not," Mom agreed. "But you know what will never change?"

I lifted my head up. "Warrington's toupee?"

"Well, that. And how much I love you, Hannah Marie Shepard. I was never sure that I'd be the type to have a kid, or at least one that turned out okay. But you? You're a pretty good one, if I say so myself."

"Feel free to say so," I teased. "You're a pretty good mom, too. If I do say so myself. It was, after all, me who made you that way."

Mom rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

I stood up and offered her my hand to pull her up. "Come on; let's go entertain Izzie with tales from our exciting lives."

Before we left her room, though, I hugged Mom tightly. "I love you, Mom," I said. "Even if you and Daddy don't work out."

"Thanks, baby," Mom said hugging me back. "We'll give it a try, huh?"

So, we did. Mom called Dr. Thomason's secretary and told her an emergency had come up. She took off two weeks. We packed up our stuff Sunday night. It took as little time as ever, but I felt like there was a certain amount of finality to the packing that time. No matter what happened in Seattle, we'd come back and things would be different.

Aunt Izzie and Michael spent the night at our apartment that night, she said to keep Mom from running or doing anything stupid, but I think she forgot that I wasn't about to let that happen. I slept in Mom's room that night, and heard her up late, tossing and turning. I tried to talk to her, but after a while figured that she just needed to think. Eventually, she got up and I heard her and Izzie talking in the living room until I fell asleep.

On the plane, Mom tapped her fingers on the armrest for the first half hour, until I grabbed her hand and glared at her. "Calm down," I hissed. "It's just Dad."

The look on her face was as if I'd said 'It's just impending doom'.

A second later the flight attendant came back for the beverage service, and Mom hesitate for a second before ordering a water. I smirked. "You so didn't want just water," I said.

She scowled at me. "Why can't you be an ignorant kid?" she asked.

"Because Alex and George have told me stories. Something about a party at your house when you were interns? And Joe, he gives you knowing looks every time we see him; like he knows all your secrets. I know how bartenders find out people's secrets."

"That was Izzie's party!" Mom retorted. "I was just there! And Joe's a friend!"

"Uh huh," I said. She continued to defend herself for a minute, eventually calling Izzie in. After that she and Izzie were talking about old times and I felt free to tune out. My purpose was served, Mom was adequately distracted.

Aunt Izzie drove us to my grandmother's old townhouse and stuck around while Mom 'got ready'. Getting ready consisted of showering, changing her clothes, putting on make-up and staring at the wall of her bedroom for close to twenty minutes.

Eventually, Aunt Izzie and I got impatient. We marched into the bedroom and each grabbed one of Mom's arms.

"He's seen do surgeries, so I'm sure he's seen you covered in blood," I told her.

"And bodily fluids," Izzie added.

"And in a hospital bed."

"And naked."

"Okay!" Mom burst out. "I get it! I just…." She bit her lip and stopped talking. We marched her out into the car. I climbed into the back and listened to Mom freak out and Aunt Izzie calm her down. Aunt Izzie was almost as good as it as me.

"How do you even know he's there?"

"I called George. He has the day off. He's there."

"For all you know he's off being a fisherman somewhere… somewhere where you do that."

"He's not. I called the house and hung up when he answered."

"You what?"

Izzie just smiled at me in the rearview mirror.

It wasn't long before we pulled up the driveway to the small house my Dad had built on his land. He built it when he was with Kathleen, but there were little details in it that I thought Mom would like more than Kathleen ever did.

Mom's knuckles were white as she clutched the armrest of Izzie's car. She made no move to get out, even though Dad's car was in the driveway just ahead of us. After a minute I reached up and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Go," I said.

She nodded and slowly opened the door. Slowly she walked up to the door, looking back at us every few seconds.

"If this were our intern year," Aunt Izzie commented, dryly, "George, Alex and Cristina would have bets on whether or not she'd run."

"I'd bet," I said, climbing up to the front seat and watching Mom's fist hover over Dad's door, "But I'm not sure on which side." Aunt Izzie laughed

A moment after Mom's fist finally descended on the door it opened and I saw Dad in the doorway.

His eyes were wide, but a soft smile played along the edges of his lips. He leaned on the doorway, and I watched as Mom spoke, gesticulating and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. I was watching intensely, but Aunt Izzie started the car.

"Oh, come on," I said, as she started to back out. "Can't we watch?" I saw Dad run a finger along Mom's cheek and then stand aside to let her in.

"No, I think they need time by themselves," Aunt Izzie said prudently. "You and I can go inform Cristina of the situation and listen to her bitch about not being included in the operation."

I sighed. "Okay."

Still, I watched in the rearview mirror until Dad closed the front door. They had kissed twice before he did that. They were big on the kissing.

A/N almost the end here. I've written a companion piece in Mer's POV of Hannah's childhood, and there's still the epilogue of this! Review! Sorry tjhis was so late going up, I just got back to school


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

"Where do you think you're going?"

I skidded to a halt, my sneakers squeaking on the tile floor, coming to a halt at the edge of red line that signaled anyone who wasn't involved with the surgeries could not continue. Sheepishly I turned to face my parents' boss, Miranda Bailey.

"Um…. There's a bomb in a body cavity and I'm the only one that knows about it," I said earnestly.

Her eyes widened, and then narrowed. "This disregard for authority may have worked in Boston, Hannah Shepard, but I will not hold with teenagers running all over my surgical floor, no matter who their parents may be.

I chewed my lip. "Come on, Dr. Bailey. You know, my mother's always saying how glad she is to be working with you again."

Dr. Bailey turned to the OR board, and I thought about making a mad dash, but she turned quickly back to me. "Has she now?" I nodded enthusiastically. "Nice to know. You're still not crossing that line."

"But it's important!" I protested.

"Do I look like I care? Here comes your father anyway, take it up with him."

Dad came around a corner. "Take what up with me?" he asked, smiling.

"Nothing," I said. "I need to talk to Mom!"

Dad's smile flickered. "What can't you talk to me about? I've even adjusted to all the tampon talk!"

"There are some things," Dr. Bailey said, turning to him with a hand on her hip, "That I don't need to hear. Keep your kid out of the OR. It's no wonder she got kicked out of school."

"I did not get kicked out!" I protested. "It's about a boy," I said to Dad finally.

Dad winced. "Yeah, okay, maybe your mother should be the one to hear about that."

"About what?" Mom's voice chimed in, and I turned to see her coming down the OR hallway pulling off her scrub cap.

"Something about a boy," Dad commented, coming over to kiss her on the cheek. I rolled my eyes impatiently as she leaned into his kiss.

"Mom, I absolutely have to talk to you!"

"Okay, okay. I'm off anyway, come with me to the locker room." I did, and we left Dad to contemplate our ways and the OR board. Six months had passed since Mom and I moved to Seattle and he still hadn't figured us out. Of course, we hadn't really figured him out either.

I thought about all this as Mom stopped at the nurses' station to give directions on caring for her patients for the night. Seattle was a lot different from Boston. Mom and I had lived in her townhouse for a few months, but eventually our stuff just kind of migrated to Dad's. The two of them weren't always blissful, but everyone swore they were doing a million times better than the first times they had been together, and they did their best to keep all of their talks from affecting me.

There was a lot of compromise involved in getting our separate worlds to combine. Dad won on my schooling at first, and I was enrolled at public school in September. Mom never told me exactly why she conceded on this, but I think she was a little worried about the whole socialization thing. In the end, I'd done so much head in a lot of classes, and out of order in comparison to them and there were only two years of high school left, so they took me out, and I took classes at Wash U along with my schooling from Mom. Dad only agreed to let me withdraw if I did at least two extracurriculars, so I started up horseback riding and piano lessons. Dad was satisfied when I started spending time at other people's houses, and Mom was happy that we still got to spend a lot of time together.

"Do you miss traveling so much?" I asked her, as she opened the door to the locker room.

"Yeah, some. But it's nice to go home every night and to the same hospital every morning. And it's not like we never travel any more."

"Yeah, but it's not as much."

"Do you miss it, pigeon?"

"Some. But you're right. It's nice to be in the same place. Bailey really is a Nazi, by the way."

"Or Thomason was a push-over.'

"That too."

"So what's this about a boy?"

I perked up. "Alfie's dad has another conference in the states next month and it's in LA. We've got to go!"

"You're lucky," Mom said with a smile. "I've been invited to speak at that conference. But wouldn't you rather stay around here? You'll have to miss riding for at least a week and--."

I cut her off with a pointed glare and she started laughing. "Well, that's a benefit to moving here, huh kid?"

"Oh, we would have gone anyway," I said, smugly. Mom just rolled her eyes at me. I watched as she pulled on her sweater and pulled her purse out of her locker. "Hey, Mom?" I said after a moment, drawing a breath. "I just wanted to tell you, I'm…. I'm really glad we came out here. I mean, things are different and all…. And I do miss some things but…. But it's nice. But also? Thank you for all that you did for me. You obviously love Dad so much and here and… it must have been so hard for you to go off… and you did it for me. So, thanks."

Mom smiled, softly. "You said it, though, kid. I did it for you. You're worth it."

I smiled, and hugged her. "You know Cristina said I made you toxic," I told her. "The hugging thing, and the thing where someone says something and maybe someone cries… but I think it's much healthier this way."

Mom laughed. "I agree."

"Good. Now let's go find Dad, he said something about sushi tonight, and I'd like to take him up on that offer."

Mom linked her arm around mine, and we went downstairs, to where Dad was already changed and ready for us.

"There's my girls," he said, with a smile. I grinned widely, and took my seat in the back of Mom's car without complaint.

As we drove out of the parking lot, I said, "So, now that we're all happy and a family, can we get a dog?"

"We'll see," Mom said.

"Can we Dad?"

"You mother said we'll see," Dad reminded me. "No undermining."

I sighed. "It used to work, before you all decided to actually talk about stuff. But I do like it better this way."

"Me too," Mom and Dad said in unison. I rolled my eyes, and noticed that they were holding hands. They were too cute sometimes.

And there they went again, with the kissing thing.

I loudly complained that I was being scarred for life, but they both ignored me, so I sat back and watched the Seattle skyline darken. I definitely liked having two parents. Some kids get it automatically, but I had to work for it. We all had to work for it. But in the end, my parents love each other, and that's enough, after all.

A/N Review!

So they're all happy :). Yay. Keep an eye out for the Mer POV story, up later in the week.

Sorry it took so long to get this one up, by the way. I've been coughing à la Meredith all weekend (but it's just sinus drainage.)


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